


please don't take me away, calla lilies

by toasttea



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Unrequited Love, lots of yut-lung annoying sing for fun lol, max is ash's adoptive father
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toasttea/pseuds/toasttea
Summary: Eiji appreciates Yut-Lung’s attempt at trying to keep his patience, he really does, but he’s nearly a second away from their potential unemployment.“For the last time, wedo nothave flowers meaningdumbass.”Or, Eiji didn’t mean to fall in love with Yut-Lung’s #1 worst customer, but now he’s going on not-dates and coughing up flower petals by the end of the day.





	1. this isn't pooh bear's honey pot

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I haven't written fanfiction in a while so hopefully, I'm not too rusty. I've been outlining this for some time so I have an idea of making this no more than ten chapters. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

For once, the bees were not the root of the problem.

 

No, no, in fact, the bees were _rarely_ the root of the problem.

 

Maybe it’s because it’s Wrap-Up Wednesday, and Wrap-Up Wednesdays seem to have the effect of turning everything into an utter shitstorm. There’s something about a discount sale that does that to people. Like a few weeks ago, when a customer came in asking to get his personal venus flytraps wrapped as a gift. Or last week, when Eiji was asked if they owned “paint safe for flowers” (it turned out the guy wanted to DIY his own Piranha Plant) which, to Eiji’s surprise, is an actual thing. And recently, the bee problem arose.

 

So, to be fair, Eiji shouldn't expect Wednesdays to be normal because normal isn’t possible when Yut-Lung is his boss _and_ self-proclaimed employee of the month. But at least with Yut-Lung, he gets free pizza, though this might have something to do with him wanting to see the tall, delivery boy.

 

Eiji has only been working at The Dragon’s Garden for a few months now. It’s a charming, petite shop hidden away within a plaza, not too far from his university. Its alluring outdoor displays have a way of captivating customers no matter how buried afar it is from the more prominent stores. Nevertheless, he wouldn't have known of its existence had it not been for that dreadful photography project he was paired with Yut-Lung to do. It was a rocky first meeting, to say the least. Although they managed to get the project done and receive a high grade, the process was chaos. Yut-Lung always seems to reel in chaos.

 

Hence, the current moment.

 

“For the last time, I _did not_ order calendulas!” Yut-Lung snaps at the phone. “Besides, who in their right mind orders a dozen boxes!”

 

Eiji can hear inaudible chatter from the other end of the call as he unpacks another box of, ironically enough, calendulas. He goes to close it, but Yut-Lung whips his head towards him at the wrong moment, catching the sight of another batch of orange petals.

 

He's fuming at this point

 

“Listen, no one is stepping near my shop because there is a horde of bees outside,” he says, trying to keep his composure. “My coworker and I are basically being held hostage in here.”

 

Eiji stifles a laugh. The bees aren’t _that_ big of a problem. It’s not like they haven’t dealt with this similar issue before, but Yut-Lung has a knack for blowing things out of proportion.

 

That was another positive of working for Yut-Lung: the daily theatrics that came with every day.

 

Yut-Lung sends him a glare which fails to intimidate. Eiji just sits behind the remaining packages with a blank stare and box cutter in hand. Luckily enough, the next package is not calendulas. They’re red hibiscus flowers⸺Yut-Lung’s favorite.

 

He pulls out a bundle to show him, but he’s already back to cursing out the unfortunate soul on the opposite side of the phone. Eiji can only hope they knew he tried to stop him.

 

“Well, fuck you too!” He shouts, stomping his foot. “I’ll get a new wholesaler!” His grip on the phone tightens, knuckles turning pale. “In fact, I’ll grow my own flowers!”

 

Yut-Lung hangs up and slams his phone against the counter. For a moment, there’s silence. The type of silence that makes one nervous about the impending. Eiji should say something, but before he summons up anything to add, Yut-Lung breaks the dead air first.

 

“Eiji.”

 

His tone is honeyed. It’s the voice he uses when he wants Eiji to do something for him.

 

He lets out a sigh, “Yes, Yue?”

 

“I need you to remove the calendulas from the outdoor display,” he says. “I mean, _I_ would, but I’m not sure if I’m allergic to bees and someone has to man the cash register.”

 

Eiji squints at him, “But what if _I_ am allergic to bees?”

 

“Don’t worry,” he says, picking up his phone. There’s a new crack running down one of its sides from its strike against the surface. “I have 911 on speed dial.”

 

“You are such a liar.”

 

“I do!”

 

“You do not.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” he assures. “I’ll order us a pizza. How does that sound?”

 

Eiji pouts, “You will not always be able to win me over with pizza.”

 

“But will it work today?”

 

He pauses, and sighs. It’s midday, there is a swarm of bees buzzing outside, and all he’s had today was a granola bar. He is going to accept that pizza.

 

“Just for today.”

 

Yut-Lung smirks, “You always come around.”

 

He sends him a glare and picks up the floral snips on the counter. Eiji knows very well he’ll always end up coming around. Because it’s Wrap-Up Wednesday and he’s convinced the bees have already commenced the process of building their home in the hollow of the red oak tree nearby.

 

It's always, _always_ Wrap-Up Wednesdays.

* * *

The calendulas slump inside a silver bucket with one or two lingering bees humming around them. Eiji gently shoos them away, the last few bumbling off to be with their remaining friends. For it being midday on a Wrap-Up Wednesday with the bee predicament being the only off-base matter of the day, today seemed to be progressing oddly well.

_Too_ well.

Eiji pays it no mind. Ruminating would certainly jinx it.

He carries the bucket inside, seeing Yut-Lung scrolling through his phone from behind the counter. He only looks up with a flinch when Eiji sets the bucket before him.

“Are the bees all gone?” He asks, prodding between the petals to ensure none are hiding within them. He stands a few inches away as if any will jump out at him at any moment.

“Mostly.”

After doing a thorough search and finding nothing, Yut-Lung claps his hands together. “Wonderful. _Now_ we can order pizza.”

Eiji watches Yut-Lung start dialing the number. Although the pizza shop is a three-minute walk from them, Yut-Lung always chooses to call. It probably has something to do with Yut-Lung finding fun in teasing the delivery boy, but Eiji is hungry and Yut-Lung’s game plan of annoying said delivery boy always makes it more laborious to enjoy lunch with him.

He raises a brow, “Wouldn’t it be easier if we went to pick it up?”

Yut-Lung pauses, putting down his phone. He stays silent for a moment, seeming to give Eiji a few seconds to retract his statement, but when he doesn’t, he continues.

“Eiji,” he gives him a sardonic look.  “Did you really just ask me that question?”

Before he can respond, Yut-Lung cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Eiji, look at my hair. How long do you think this took to do?”

He hesitates to answer. This can be a trick question.

“Thirty...minutes?”

Yut-Lung scowls. “ _An hour.”_

Eiji is confused. He surveys every side of Yut-Lung’s hair, but no matter what direction he darts his eyes on, it looks identical to how he normally styles it. Maybe the red cord was on the opposite side? Still, Eiji finds it impossible that a _ponytail_ really takes an hour to do.

He doesn’t get to point this out before Yut-Lung is placing in his order for a veggie pizza.

It doesn’t take more than twenty minutes for an annoyed delivery boy, with a hot pizza in hand, to arrive.

“You know we’re literally down the street, right?”

Yut-Lung smirks, eyes peering straight into his. “What’s the fun in that, Sing?” He takes the pizza from his hands and sets it on the counter. “Plus, you know how busy the shop gets on Wednesdays.”

Sing looks back and forth then side to side, meeting Eiji’s eyes. Eiji waves at him and Sing politely smiles in return.

“There’s no one here!” He quips.

Yut-Lung scoffs, “You’re so rude, Sing!” He points at Eiji, who’s already making his way to open the pizza box. “Eiji is here!”

Eiji rolls his eyes. He picks up a slice with a satisfying cheese pull. He takes a bite and continues to watch their “exchange,” a.k.a their odd attempt at flirting with one another. Neither of the two knew they're trying to woo one another, but Eiji knows, and Yut-Lung is _so close_ to figuring it out too. As much as he likes to hype himself up for possessing the utmost cognizance and aptitude, Yut-Lung is remarkably oblivious. So much so it gives Eiji a headache when he has to deal with him on a daily basis.

“Your pizza isn’t really worth walking over to pick up anyway,” Yut-Lung bluntly states. “It’s revolting.”

“Then why order it!”

“I need to feed Eiji otherwise he’ll never grow.”

“Hey,” Eiji intercedes. “I am two inches taller than you!”

“It’s working, see?” Yut-Lung defends. “I mean, it obviously worked for you.”

The backhanded compliment towards Sing leads the two to narrow their eyes at Yut-Lung for a moment.

Sing only sighs, “Whatever. Can you pay me already? I have to visit Shorter at the hospital after this.”

Yut-Lung tilts his head, “Not that I’m surprised, but why is Shorter in the hospital?”

The atmosphere briefly becomes solemn. It’s faint, but it’s there, and it's almost uncomfortable. Because it’s Shorter who’s in the hospital and although it’s a chronic occurrence for him to end up there due to, what Yut-Lung dubs as his “Dumbass Disease,” this is different.

This is the silence that makes Eiji _fear_ the impending.

“He woke up suffocating on some flower petals,” he explains. “Alex found him. He got surgery to remove them last night,” Sing pauses. “It’s just weird since it’s Shorter, you know? He's always been a flirt. I didn’t think he'd actually get hung up on someone this time.”

Eiji waits for Yut-Lung’s response, but when nothing comes, he glances over to see he’s tense.

He almost looks scared.

Eiji clears his throat. They direct their attention to him as he finishes chewing on the last piece of his crust. “How about you bring him some flowers? That might make him happy.”

Sing’s face brightens, “Yeah,  that’s⸺that’s a good idea, Eiji.”

He strolls to one of the displays sitting vibrantly by the window of the shop. They’re chrysanthemums of assorted colors. Yut-Lung made sure to arrange them in an area people can see, declaring them the focal point of the Dragon’s Garden. Chrysanthemums are flowers customers tend to gravitate to the most. They were always having to order an extra supply.

Sing tries to sound out the name which only makes Yut-Lung roll his eyes and pronounce it out for him. He ignores him and points to the bundle of violet that lies between the other hues, “These look nice. I’ll take those.”

“Sure!” Eiji beams. “Yue will ring you up.”

Yut-Lung smirks, “Well, of course. I _am_ the best at wrapping.”

* * *

The last few hours of the day consist of Eiji decorating pots for their outdoor display while Yut-Lung picks off the petals from one of the calendulas. Eiji looks up from his work every so often when he hears Yut-Lung muttering under his breath. The Pooh Bear he’s trying to paint starts looking wonky, owing to Yut-Lung’s distracting grousing.

He tries to let it pass, but Yut-Lung makes it apparent that he _wants_ a penny for his thoughts.

 

It’s never just a penny though. It’s a penny and a plethora of diamonds because Yut-Lung would rather dance around his feelings than explicitly discuss them. But again, Eiji always caves in.

He sighs, “What is wrong, Yue?”

Yut-Lung has an elbow resting on the surface, resting his chin against his palm. He looks on as if in a trance at the bald flower in his opposite hand, twisting the stem between his fingers.

“How painful do you think Hanahaki is?”

He blinks. Despite how common the disease is, it still made people’s blood run cold. Falling in love, something so ordinary is starting to feel like playing with fire. Feelings being unrequited is also so ordinary, but it became one of those ordinary parts of one’s life that the majority associated with fear. Like thunder, or spiders.

Except this was different.

This can  _kill_ you.

Eiji sets his brush in a jar and hums. His eyes brighten, “Maybe the reverse version of drinking scorching coffee?”

He snorts, “That must be horrible. Especially if it’s as bitter as coffee.”

“Coffee is not so bad.”

“I prefer tea.”

Yut-Lung lets out an exasperated groan, crushing what remains of the flower in his hand. “It’s so stupid to get hung up on feelings. I would never.”

Eiji stops the urge to roll his eyes. _What a liar._ The constant pizza orders are proof.

“What about Sing?”

Yut-Lung raises a brow, “What _about_ Sing?”

“I thought you liked him?” _Knows._

He is taken aback, sputtering and scoffing. “What? I don’t like Sing!”

Eiji snickers, shaking his head. “Whatever you say.”

“I don’t!”

Their bickering gets cut short when they hear the chime of the bell over the door. It’s a face they’ve never seen, or can’t remember seeing, before. Most of their customers are regulars who live around the block or cute, elderly couples buying flowers for one another, and it's usually around holidays when non-familiar faces would come in.

Then again, it is Wrap-Up Wednesday. A discount day. So, basically a holiday.

“Welcome to the Dragon’s Garden,” Yut-Lung greets with his kind facade. He is a true thespian. “How can I help you today?”

When the customer approaches Yut-Lung, there are two things Eiji notices: his head of blonde hair and sharp, jade eyes. He’s beautiful, almost leaving Eiji mesmerized. Their eyes meet for a brief second, but Eiji sheepishly goes back for the paintbrush in the jar and resumes painting the half-finished, brown pot in front of him.

He feels his face go red and he has a curious urge to glimpse back up again to see where Yut-Lung is guiding him.

_No, Eiji! Focus on finishing Pooh Bear._

“I was wondering if you have anything that resembles Pikmin,” he asks.

Forget painting Pooh Bear, _t_ _hat_ simple question catches Eiji’s attention entirely.

Yut-Lung tilts his head, “Pikmin?”

The man nods, pulling out his phone to show, what Eiji believes, to be a picture of what Pikmin are to Yut-Lung.

And that’s definitely what said customer shows him based on Yut-Lung’s slowly dissolving affable smile.

“That’s...that’s a video game,” Yut-Lung deadpans. “They aren’t real.”

“I know,” the man clarifies. “Which is why I’m asking if you have anything that _resembles_ it.”

Yut-Lung presses his lips together and binds himself to compel the corners of his mouth to tug upwards. The smile is miff and fictitious, but Yut-Lung understands the act he has to put up for Wrap-Up Wednesdays so he can survive the day without impulsively clawing his hair out.

He glances back over the customer’s phone, maintaining his air of professionalism. “They kind of look like water hyssops,” he infers. “But unfortunately, we don’t carry those in our shop.”

The customer frowns, ”You don’t? Isn’t this a flower shop?”

Yut-Lung crosses his arms. His fortitude is wavering, Eiji can tell.

“My apologies for the inconvenience,”  he says, acidly. “I’m sure we can find another arrangement that is similar. Maybe white daisies?”

Yut-Lung leads him to a different section of the store where the daisies perch. They're settled in brown, clay vases adorned with black Nori birds Eiji painted on. Yut-Lung would always huff and call them tacky; nonetheless, they're a favorite amongst their customers to Yut-Lung’s displeasure.

The customer hums, brows furrowing as he stares down at the flowers. He then lets out an exaggerated sigh and pinches his nose, “I guess these will do.”

Yut-Lung is irked, near fuming. His pretense of cordiality, nevertheless, stands its ground. “Great. Would you like them in a vase or as a bouquet?”

“A vase is fine, preferably a plain one,” he says. The customer continues to roam around the shop, hands in his jacket pockets, as Yut-Lung cuts the stems of some daisies and sets them in one of the clay vases.

Eiji observes the customer trying to poke at the venus flytraps they keep as an “exhibit of odd plants” at the corner of the shop. He represses a laugh when he sees the customer quickly pull his finger away before it closes, distinctly unaware it won't hurt.   

When Yut-Lung is finished, he clears his throat causing the customer to revert his attention back to him.

“Will that be all?”

He ponders for a moment. “No, actually, can I get a bouquet of flowers?” He asks. His green eyes then go wide as if a light bulb flashed at the top of his head. “Specifically meaning ‘dumbass.’” 

 

The corner of Yut-Lung's lip twitches, “Excuse me?”

“Flowers that mean dumbass.” He raises a brow, “Do you _also_ not carry those here?”

Yut-Lung swells with indignation, “I don’t think _any_ flower shop carries flowers that mean dumbass.”

The customer smirks, “I’m pretty sure the one across the street does, but I guess that’s why they keep your place hidden away from all the other stores.”

Yut-Lung balls his hands up at his sides. If Eiji can pinpoint from a scale of 0 to 100 how close Yut-Lung is to shutting down Wrap-Up Wednesdays for good to free them from the curse it brought upon them, he would say ninety. Maybe a little higher than ninety.

“It was actually a choice,” he retorts, matter-of-factly. “A wise choice if I’ve been able to keep away from the likes of you until now.”

Eiji should really intervene. He really needs this job, and Yut-Lung seems ready to raise his fists at any moment, threatening that.

“Wow, this is great customer service,” he says, mordantly. “Especially for an innocent customer just trying to find some ‘dumbass’ flowers.”

Eiji appreciates Yut-Lung’s attempt at _trying_ to keep his patience, he really does, but he’s nearly a second away from their potential unemployment.

“For the last time, we _do not_ have flowers meaning _dumbass_.”

“Yue?”

Both pairs of eyes turn to meet his. The green pair, however, make Eiji’s cheeks tint red. He doesn’t comprehend why.

“How about I help our customer while you get ready to close up?” Good enough excuse. The store is supposed to close in ten minutes anyway.

Yut-Lung blinks followed by a relieved sigh. “Yes, good point, Eiji.”

“Yeah,” the customer smirks. “Good point, _Eiji._ ” The customer looks directly at him when he says his name. It isn’t said in a patronizing tone. More light teasing than anything. Needless to say, it makes it challenging for Eiji to hide how red his cheeks have become.

Yut-Lung scoffs, “You’re such a piece of⸺“

“Ah!” Eiji cuts him off, quickly diverting the customer’s attention to the opposite direction of Yut-Lung. “Let me show you some options we have.”

Eiji glares back at Yut-Lung who is pretend-smashing the customer’s vase in his hands. He shakes his head at him, but all Yut-Lung does is stick his tongue out and retreat back behind the counter.

He should thank him. Eiji _is_ the only being keeping the shop from getting shut down. _Yut-Lung’s_ shop to be exact.

Eiji twists his attention back to his _very_ attractive customer who is now amusing himself with the small antiques they have sitting on a rotating shelf.

Eiji smiles, “Maybe I will ask Yue to ship in Pikmin figures. I think they are very cute.”

He looks over at him, confused, but returns the smile. “Yeah...I think my friend would like one.”

There’s something wistful about his tone. Whoever his friend is, Eiji hopes he’s okay.

“Are these flowers not for this friend?” He asks, puzzled.

The customer chuckles, “No. They’re for my dad.” He shakes his head with a smile. “He tripped over something at work today and broke his leg. I thought I might as well get him something while I’m here.”

Eiji chuckles along with him, “I see. Well, we do not have any flowers with that specific meaning, but we do have some with a similar connotation. Like red geraniums? They mean stupidity.”

He picks up a vase containing a bundle of them and hands them over to the man for him to sniff. The customer does so, and based off his scrunched up nose, he doesn’t seem too impressed. “They kind of smell like roses. They’re like the imposter version of roses.”

Eiji giggles which, this time, causes the man’s cheeks to color. “I guess they kind of are. The meaning suits them well.”

The customer nods, averting his gaze from Eiji’s smile. “I’ll be taking the imposter roses then.”

“A bouquet of imposter roses it is!”

He takes a few from the vase and walks back to the counter. Eiji blankets them in a sheet of wrapping paper and ties them together with a red ribbon. He can sense Yut-Lung’s eyes examining them, mainly their customer, from behind. He also glimpses up from the register at the right moment to catch the customer glowering back at Yut-Lung. Eiji shakes his head and resists the urge to laugh.

When the cash register finally spits out the receipt, Eiji slides the items over to him, causing the customer to break away from the intense staring contest he's having with Yut-Lung.

“Thank you for shopping with us today, um...”

“Ash,” he finishes for him, a bit eagerly.

Eiji smiles, “Thank you for shopping with us, Ash.”

“No, thank you,” he says as he picks up his items. Ash then glances over again towards Yut-Lung, “You were much better help than your friend over there.”

Yut-Lung stands up from his seat and grits his teeth, “Sorry, I’m allergic to entitled _assholes_.”

Ash only laughs, “You know, maybe I’ll show up again tomorrow just to spite you.”

Before Yut-Lung gets to say anything else, Ash looks back at Eiji with a smirk. “I’ll see you again soon, _Eiji_.”

As he walks out, Eiji is left with rosy cheeks and an angry Yut-Lung trying to break the pot Eiji was working on earlier with his bare hands.

“Eiji, whatever you do, _always_ stay away from assholes like him.”

Yes...yes, he’s sure he’ll listen to Yut-Lung’s advice.

 


	2. swiper, no swiping my fucking gift baskets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash likes to bully his dad, Shorter escapes death and aims to become a champion, and Michael tasks himself to be Ash's wingman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this really a fanfic or an excuse for me to make video game references and flower puns all over the place? lol. I hope you enjoy!

To be fair, Ash is only treating Max the way he is because he’s being melodramatic over what Ash believed was a broken leg. He comes to find it’s in fact, not a broken leg, but a sprained ankle. A pretty nasty sprain, to give him some credit, but not terrible enough for his whole room to be splayed out with gifts as if it were some funeral and for Max to be complaining every second since Ash’s arrival.

 

He really should have gone to see Shorter first. But Ash is a good son who brings his father imposter roses, recommended to him by a cute guy, that basically means dumbass and is now treating himself to whatever snacks he can rummage out from the sea of gift baskets.

 

He is definitely a _great_ son.

 

After settling on an ice-cream cup, Ash slumps himself into one of the compact recliners by Max’s bedside and kicks his feet up near his father’s casted leg, grazing his shoe against Max's ankle occasionally to annoy him.

 

He is still waiting on his “#1 Son Award.” Then again, his competition is Michael, and even Ash would hand that award right over to him in a heartbeat.

 

Max groans and pushes his head against his pillow when Ash skims his ankle for the umpteenth time in less than ten minutes. “I thought you were here for moral support. Not to kick my ankle and pillage my gifts.”

 

Ash tries to maintain a straight face, but the twitching at the corner of his lip isn’t helping.

 

“No one asked you to sprain your ankle, old man,” he mumbles through a bite of chocolate ice-cream. “Your fault you tripped over stairs.”

 

From the phone call Ash received, Shunichi made it seem like Max had injured himself jumping hurdles while trying to capture a story of some sleazy businessman. Ash couldn’t have been more disappointed to find out the real story from Max about the background of his injury. It did give Ash a good laugh though so he can’t completely complain.

 

Max squints over at him, crossing his arms as he watches Ash continue to eat his snacks with a blank stare and no sign of remorse. “You know that’s my ice cream, right? Shunichi bought that for _me_. The bag says ‘For Max,’ not ‘For Max’s Angry Son.’”

 

Ash peers through him. He notices Max is shifting in place, trying not to lose the _second_ staring contest Ash has entered himself into in one day. Max is a competent opponent, considering the multiple subjects he has had to interview for work. But Ash has tricks up his sleeve, and he wins by lightly bumping his shoe against Max’s cast which causes him to wince.

 

“Are you really going to keep this up,” he huffs, moving his foot out of Ash’s reach.

 

Ash, however, slumps deeper into his seat, giving himself leverage to scoot his leg closer to Max’s. He taps it once more, “Yes.”

 

In the midst of their kicking match, there’s a knock at the door followed by it creaking open.

 

It’s Jessica with Michael. The first thing they walk into is Ash near sliding off his seat while Max’s casted leg hangs off the opposite edge of the bed. Her hands rest on her hips while a frown settles on her lips. She’s not impressed, but Ash sees her lips tremble, fighting the desire to smile. Jessica is always playing the “responsible adult” role, claiming it’s her bounden duty otherwise their home would become a pandemonium.

 

It’s a pandemonium nonetheless, but no one is brave enough to tell her that.

 

“Jess, I’m sorry to say, but we raised a bully,” Max confesses. He straightens his leg out on the bed, feeling safe now that Jessica has arrived. That doesn’t stop Ash from getting one last kick in before cautiously adjusting himself back in his seat before he completely slips to the ground.

 

Jessica presses her fingers against her temple and shakes her head. “Ash, just because you’re 22, that doesn't mean I won’t hesitate to ground you.”

 

That was always her main threat: grounding. Did she ever follow through?

 

Absolutely. Ash has been grounded from using the car multiple times, including currently which has obliged him to commute to school on the subway.

 

And Ash _hates_ taking the subway.

 

He rolls his eyes, ensuring she doesn’t see him do so. He really doesn’t want more time added to his forfeiture. “Whatever, old lady,” he grumbles which receives him a smack across the back of his head from Jessica and a snicker from Michael.

 

Traitor.

 

Michael, the traitor, sits in the seat beside him, feet dangling off his chair. Although he’s nearing his twelfth birthday, Michael remains to be one of the few shortest kids in his class, along with his friend Skip. Nevertheless, he got himself into the habit of drinking a cup of milk a day since he turned ten. Though the few inches he did boost up to were not a drastic change, Ash always kept up the charade of how impressed he is with how "incredibly tall" Michael has gotten to give him some peace of mind.

 

Maybe he deserves a “#1 Older Brother Award” too, but that award had already been handed out to Griffin. No matter how many years he's been gone, no one could strip that win from Griffin.

 

“Seriously, Max? You just had to go and sprain your ankle two weeks before our wedding day,” Jessica scolds, seating herself at the edge of his bed. “How do you even trip _on stairs!"_

 

Max groans, pressing himself deeper into the pillow. “Jess, it was an accident. I didn’t realize my shoelaces were untied. It happens.”

 

Jessica curses under her breath, a manner she has adopted to keep the swearing from reaching Michael’s ears. This didn’t always work which served Michael the opportunity to create a swear jar. As of now, Michael is near his goal of adopting the puppy he's always wanted.

 

Ash sniggers, “That’s why I got him those.” He points to the nightstand where the red geraniums lie. “‘Dumbass Flowers.’”

 

Michael’s laugh breaks the settling silence which only causes Jessica’s forehead to furrow deeper.

 

“You see! We created a bully!”

 

Jessica sighs, “No, no. The flowers have a point.”

 

Though Ash finds the first few minutes of their bickering entertaining, he dulls them out to place his newfound attention on the brown, paper bag between Michael’s hands. Based on the smell alone, Ash knows they’re hot dogs from their favorite eatery near their home.

 

Yeah, Michael definitely deserves the “#1 Son Award.” Hell, he’ll even hand over the “#1 Little Brother Award” too.

 

He pulls out one of the aluminum-wrapped hot dogs from the bag and nudges it against Ash’s cheek. “I bought you one. It might be a little cold though.”

 

Ash pats the top of his brown curls and takes it, “Thanks.”

 

The two munch on their food as they watch the couple continue to argue over Max’s incapability of ensuring his shoes are tied. Ash finds it funny when Jessica starts breaking down the process of how to tie a shoe, even advising Max of triple knotting if he can’t manage to survive the day without toppling over things.

 

The argument finally rests when Jessica lets out a huff and shakes her head. She’ll always stop Pandora’s box from opening.

 

“So, when are they letting you out of here,” she asks. “I have an appointment with the caterer for last minute changes in two hours and I cannot be late again.”

 

Max lets out a relieved breath. “The doctor just needs to check some things and finish up on paperwork then we’ll be free to go.”

 

After taking the last bite of his hot dog, Ash crumples the aluminum foil in his hand and stands. “Well, while we wait, I’m going to check on Shorter before we leave.”

 

Jessica nods. “That’s fine. As long as you come back to help clean up,” she says, referring to the piles of baskets and flowers lying around.

 

“Will do.”

 

He picks up the potted flower sitting on top of one of the desks in the room. There’s a printed photo of a red Pikmin taped to one side of the vase. Ash’s touch.

 

Michael perks up as Ash nears the door, “Can I come?”

 

Ash waves him over, “Bring the purple gift basket with you. There are pudding cups in that one.”

 

Michael beams, immediately rushing over to it and carrying it back to Ash. From Ash’s point of view, it’s hysterical how much the basket seems to tower over Michael. Had it not been for the clear plastic wrap revealing Michael’s face from behind it, Ash would have thought the basket had gained limbs.

 

Max frowns, “Those are _my_ pudding cups!”

 

Ash shakes his head, smugly. “Relax. We’re reducing the shit we have to carry back home, right Michael?” he says while pulling out his wallet from his pocket to take out a quarter. He drops it on top of Michael’s head for him to balance.

 

Michael looks at Max through the plastic with a pleading look, “Can we please have the pudding cups, dad?”

 

Without any hesitance, Max gives in. “Yes, of course, Michael. You and Ash can have the whole basket.”

 

His puppy dog eyes always work like a charm.

 

Maybe they both deserve the “Best Sons Award.”

 

Max would definitely agree.

* * *

“ _No way_ you won Ash at Smash with your eyes closed!”

 

“I did!”

 

“Don't believe him, Shorter. He was probably peaking.”

 

“No, I wasn’t!”

 

“I think he’s telling the truth. Ash has been doing a shit job at keeping his winning streak.”

 

“Shut up, Sing. Or I’ll ban you from game night.”

 

The four of them started off having a cordial and honorable-to-society conversation with each other while enjoying the pudding cups from the gift basket Ash abandoned at the corner of the room. Yet, Ash should know better than to assume anything can remain cordial and honorable-to-society when the four of them are together. Especially when the subject of the conversation turns to Super Smash, which recently, Ash has not been doing an exceptional job at.

 

His fucking Chemistry homework is to blame.

 

“I guess a new champion must rise now that the undefeatable has fallen,” Shorter proclaims. He looks over at Michael and presses his fist to his heart. “It’s between you and me, buddy.”

 

Michael nods, determined, mimicking the action.

 

“What about me? I’m a candidate too!”

 

“Sing, you have to at least beat Ash once to be a candidate,” he states. “And how many matches have you won?” Shorter shapes his hand into a zero evoking a grumble from Sing.

 

Ash scoffs, “Just wait till midterms are over. I’ll get my winning streak back.”

 

The three of them squint at him, teasingly.

 

Ash crosses his arms and groans, “Whatever. You’ll see.”

 

When a half hour passes, Sing takes off to work with the promise of free pizza for the next game night (that Ash is still contemplating over inviting him back to or not) while Michael has occupied himself with Ash’s phone, playing some bright-flashing colored game.

 

All in all, it’s a somewhat appropriate time for Ash to pop the question to Shorter of who the fuck it was that caused him to almost choke on flower petals in his sleep. Though asking wouldn’t do much since any recollection of the cursed person has already been wiped from his memories.

 

The only remembrance of them were the petals stuck in a jar somewhere in an empty, surgical room. They would either be burned with the others or buried if Shorter chose to keep them. They were like ashes of some nameless, faceless person somewhere out there in the world unaware Shorter was dying for them in a literal sense.

 

It was scary, to say the least, hearing Alex’s shaking voice through the phone at four o’clock in the morning. To hear Shorter _barely_ escaped death by two minutes. To realize that if it happened to Shorter, it could happen to anyone.

 

It’s a hearkening of how terrifying love, a natural emotion, can be. Like fleeting birds warning a coming storm.

 

Ash isn’t stupid though. He has lost one person to it already, he almost lost Shorter to it, and he’s sure as hell he’ll never lose himself to it either. He heeds its warning, he won’t fall victim.

 

“What’s that behind your chair?”

 

Ash jolts up from his daze and sees Shorter leaning right, trying to catch a glimpse at the object hiding at the back of Ash’s seat.

 

“Oh, right,” Ash’s eyes flash, picking up the sort-of-Pikmin flower pot. “I got you these, Captain Olimar. Almost got into a fight with some guy working there too.”

 

Shorter laughs, “I’m sure you gave him a reason to pick a fight with you.”

 

“He’s the one who started it!”

 

Shorter snorts, “Ash, we both know that’s not true.”

 

“Whatever, he’s a literal snake,” he grumbles. “But his friend...his friend who works there kind of reminds me of your old bunny, Bugz.”

 

“Bugz Bunny?” He exclaims loud enough for Michael to briefly look up from his game. Bugz was Shorter’s treasured rabbit who grew too old to walk the earth. “We loved Bugz Bunny! Did you get his number?”

 

Ash raises a brow, “Why would I get his number?”

 

Shorter shrugs. He wiggles a finger between Ash’s eyes and smirks, “You just got that look when mentioning him.”

 

“What look?”

 

“Oh, you know,” Shorter’s grin gets larger. “ _The_ _look_.”

 

Michael’s eyes widen, “Ash got _the look_?”

 

“I did not get _the look,_ whatever the fuck that means,” he retorts. Michael pulls his hand out, waiting for a quarter. Ash reluctantly, pulls one out from his wallet and hands it to him. “I spoke to him for like five minutes, you’re over-analyzing this.”

 

Shorter rolls his eyes, “Oh please, liking somebody never hurt anyone.”

 

Ash holds his breath. A heavy silence bid itself welcome, settling and leveling any semblance of their jovialness flat.

 

It brought back the eerie reminder that Shorter was almost taken away because of _a crush._ Crushes are not supposed to bring death. They’re supposed to gift rosy cheeks and butterflies scattering around in one’s stomach. Love should bring color and light, not take that light away.

 

Love should let them breathe.

 

Shorter chuckles, nervously. “Ah, right, sorry about that.”

 

“It’s fine,” he assures, directing his attention to the heart monitor, watching it move steadily. It’s a monument that Shorter’s still here. The petals didn't win. He was given a second chance to breathe and see light once more.

 

“I’m keeping them by the way.”

 

Ash meets his eyes again, “Keeping what?”

 

“The flower petals. I’m going to bury them next to Bugz.”

 

He frowns, “You really want to remember someone like that?"

 

“I mean, I can’t remember who they actually are. I might as well just keep the reminder,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not their fault. They didn’t know.”

 

“So, you can’t remember at all?” Ash is curious. He wants to know the exact face he needs to hate.

 

Shorter leans back, looking up at the ceiling. Blank, like his memories.

 

“Kind of? Not really. They’re there in my head, but like this big blur,” he explains. “Kind of gives me a headache to think about honestly.”

 

“Do you think I might know them?”

 

Shorter shakes his head, unsure. “Maybe? I really can’t remember.”

 

Ash wants to barrage him with questions. The desire to discover who this person is is driving him up the wall. He won't push it though, he’s afraid to do so. He’s afraid his persistent questioning will only make Shorter want to remember, and wanting to remember will only rehash those petals to return.

 

He refuses to lose his best friend.

 

Michael’s yelp wakes Ash out from his dark place. “Mom is calling!”

 

Ash looks at the clock hanging at the top of the door and curses. “It’s late. We should get going.”

 

Michael stands up and hands Ash his phone back, dashing to the door. Before he’s completely out in the hall, Michael salutes Shorter, receiving the same gesture from Shorter in return.

 

Ash snorts as he watches Michael run down the hall to Max’s room. He gives Shorter a small smile, “I’ll see you at game night then.”

 

Shorter nods. He raises the potted flower up and grins, “Thanks for bringing me Pikmin. They’ll for sure help me get the fuck out of here.”

 

Ash laughs, and he’s soon gone, leaving Shorter alone. Well, not completely alone. He _does_ have a Pikmin friend by his side.

* * *

 Shorter notices a tag stuck to one side of the clay vase. It has the shop’s name, he supposes. He reads out the name, head tilting.

 

He hums, questionably. 

* * *

If Ash has to suffer another Friday afternoon, collapsed on the couch with a Chemistry book drooped on his face, he’s convinced he’ll actually go insane.

 

He normally is ahead with his assignments to prevent the hassle of doing all of it in one go the day before the due date. The past two days, however, have not permitted him to keep this routine considering Max has been ordering him around to do his part of the wedding planning while he gets to nap for the majority of the day.

 

Regardless of all new tasks that have been handed to him, Ash manages to finally get his homework, the bane of his existence, done, allowing him some well-needed rest.

 

He tosses the book to the side and turns himself over, arms-crossed and head resting on top of them. It takes a few minutes for him to drift off, but it only takes two minutes for it to be ruined by something pelting the back of his head. He ignores it the first time, but once he gets hit twice followed by a symphony of other shots, he rises up.

 

It’s Michael. With a nerf gun. The nerf gun _Ash_ got him for Christmas. The biggest mistake he has ever made.

 

“I want to buy flowers,” he states, bluntly.

 

Ash wipes the sleep from his face and pinches his fingers between his brows. “And you couldn’t have just⸺I don’t know⸺tapped my shoulder to tell me this?”

 

“I did,” he confirms. “But you didn’t wake up.”

 

Ash sighs, “Why do you need to buy flowers now? Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

 

“I just want to buy flowers.”

 

He pauses and narrows his eyes at him. Ash notices Michael is avoiding meeting his eyes. “What did you do?”

 

Michael shrinks under his gaze and scuffs his shoe against the carpet. “I accidentally broke mom’s vase.”

 

Ash’s eyes widen, “Which one?”

 

He shrinks even more, “The one with the blue flowers.”

 

 _Shit._ Those are her favorite.

 

He looks over at his phone for the time. It’s four o’clock. They approximately have an hour before Jessica gets home from work. That’s enough time for her to never notice the vase got replaced. Well, Ash _hopes_ she’ll never notice.

 

Ash gets up from the couch and grabs his keys from the counter, quietly, so a sleeping Max won't wake and find the car missing. “Let’s hurry before she gets here.”

 

The drive isn’t a far one. In fact, it would have been more convenient if they had chosen to walk, considering New York traffic, but Ash hasn’t gotten to use the car in what feels like ages and he’s grasping at any opportunity to take it.

 

Michael quickly jumps out of the car, rushing towards the outdoor display that’s been decorated with animal ornaments hidden between rows of petals. Ash always found it distasteful how something so beautiful can be the cause of one’s demise.

 

The car beeps behind them, alerting it’s locked as Ash walks towards Michael.

 

Michael beams up at Ash, “Is this where the boy works?”

 

Ash’s face reddens. He regrets ever mentioning Eiji to Shorter with Michael around. The kid is sweet, but he never knows when to keep his mouth shut.  “Yeah. So don’t say anything, got it?”

 

Michael snickers, but nods. “Got it.”

 

After Ash finally pries Michael away from trying to poke at each ornament within the flowers, they walk inside and are welcomed by a blend of scents. The shop appears empty like the first time he visited, but as they get closer to the counter, the two hear a loud crashing of what sounds like boxes coming from the backroom.

 

Michael looks over at Ash, concerned. “Maybe you should go help them?”

 

“I can’t. The sign says ‘Employees Only,’” he specifies. “That’s breaking the law, Michael.”

 

“But what if he’s hurt?”

 

He pauses for a moment. “You’re right.”

 

Ash starts heading to the backroom but quickly moves away from the door when a disheveled Eiji comes out from behind. Ash notices there are pink petals and stems stuck between Eiji’s hair and clothes. He should think Eiji looks like a mess, and he does, yet he finds it oddly charming. Almost cute.

 

Eiji’s face goes completely red as he rushes to pull out as many petals and stems away from himself. He doesn’t do a good job though, but Ash refuses to point that out to him.

 

“Oh, you are back!” Eiji manages to stammer, glancing at anything but green eyes. “Yue is not here if you have come to see him.”

 

“Yue?” Ash repeats.

 

“Yue! Remember? Long hair,” he begins to describe. “You fought with him.”

 

It dawns on him after minutes of trying to recall a “Yue” that he realizes Eiji is referring to “snake boy.” The guy he promised he would come back for just to spite him.

 

“Right, him!” He answers. “Yeah, no. I’m not here for snake-incarnate. I’m looking for a vase.”

 

“Oh,” Eiji perks up, his face slowly returning back to its original color. “I can help with that!”

 

Very, _very_ cute. He finds it endearing how proper yet effervescent he is. Eiji is that sunny and warm feeling on a bright Spring day when the birds are out and singing. This image is only strengthened with how perfectly he fits in with the flower shop, a garden hidden from the cacophony of city life.

 

Ash feels someone pushing against his back and sees it’s Michael, alerting him Eiji is already directing them to a different section of the store where the vases are displayed.

 

“Is there a specific type you are looking for?” He asks when he sees Ash and Michael zooming in to each one. Unfortunately, none of them are exactly like Jessica’s, and the ones that somewhat resemble it are a different color.

 

“Do you have this one in pink?”

 

Eiji nods with a smile. “I believe we have one more in the back,” he says, walking to the backroom.

 

 _Truly an angel._ Ash is starting to think Eiji might actually be Bugz’s embodied form.

 

He comes back with a pink vase between sweater paw hands. “Is this one okay?”

 

Ash doesn’t respond. He’s too focused in on Eiji’s big, brown eyes. He has a thing for big, brown eyes.

 

Michael, _again,_ pulls him out of his stupor when he slaps his hand across his own.

 

He jolts back from his admiration, “Yeah. Yeah, that one’s perfect.”

 

It isn’t perfect. The color is slightly lighter than the original, and Jessica will definitely notice, but he will cross that bridge when he comes to it.

 

“I will wrap it right away for you!”

 

Ash wants to tell him he can take all the time he needs. The reminder that they’re on a time limit doesn’t kick in, and when it does, he’ll be panicking. All he wants to do now is live in the moment.

 

Michael watches Eiji delicately wrap the vase in sheets of newspaper. He then glances over at Ash who’s too busy gazing over Eiji while he’s occupied. 

 

“Did you know Ash is single?”

 

The older two jerk up to look at Michael: Eiji bewildered and Ash flustered.

 

“Huh?” Eiji’s cheeks turn to cherries again.

 

Michael beams, “Yeah! He’s a single pringle!”

 

“ _Michael!_ ”

 

Before Michael can continue announcing Ash’s nonexistent relationship status, the bell’s jingle pulls their attention towards the door.

 

It's snake-incarnate, or "Yue" as Eiji calls him.

 

“I cannot _believe_ the audacity you have to show up here, again!”

 

He’s marching towards them, fists clenched and frown in place. “I see you decided to wait till Friday to come and spite me, asshole.” Yue, or whatever his name is, is standing tall, chest puffed out and hands on his waist. He reminds Ash of an angry pigeon he once saw at the subway station.

 

He waves his hand dismissively. “Relax. I’m not here to see you, but I see you still haven’t fixed your terrible customer service.”

 

Yue-what’s-his-face stomps his foot, making Ash and Michael snicker. He doesn’t strip his glare away from Ash’s. “Eiji, hurry and ring him up. I’ll be in the back taking my break.”

 

“But you just took your break⸺”

 

“I’m taking another one!” He shouts as he stomps away.

 

Eiji sighs while he puts in the amount of the vase into the register. "I am sorry on his behalf.”

 

Ash shakes his head, “Don’t worry, I think it’s funny.”

 

Eiji giggles. Ash enjoys the sound of that.

 

“Oh!” Eiji brightens as he pulls something out from behind the counter. “I just remembered! They shipped in new ornaments for us this morning.” He clenches the hidden figure between his hand and slowly unwraps his fist to reveal what hides inside.

 

It’s a Pikmin figure. A yellow one with a leaf on its antenna.

 

“Aww,” Michael shrills, eyes sparkling. “Ash. Ash, I beat you with my eyes closed on Smash using a yellow Pikmin!” He then directs his eyes to Eiji, “Did you know I won against Ash with my eyes closed with a yellow Pikmin?”

 

Eiji chuckles, “Did you?”

 

Michael nods eagerly.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ash huffs. “He’s been bragging about it all week.”

 

“Yeah, because you _always_ win,” Michael defends. “ _And_ I won you with my eyes closed!”

 

“Maybe you should buy the winner one?” Eiji says, teasingly. “I think it would make a great prize.”

 

Michael jumps, excitedly. “Yeah, Ash! I deserve a prize!”

 

The younger one looks up at him, eyes gleaming with joy. Ash pouts. Those damn puppy eyes.

 

“I guess I’ll feed your ego just this once.”

 

The other two high-five one another, and if Eiji’s happy little cheer is a sale tactic, it worked. Ash is willing to buy every Pikmin figure if he can see Eiji smile like that all the time.

 

Eiji places the change and receipt inside the plastic bag with the Pikmin figure, handing it to Michael so Ash can carry the vase.

 

“Come back again!” Eiji waves with a smile. There’s a muffled _“Fucking don’t!”_ that comes from the back room, but Ash chooses to ignore it

 

The two return the gesture with Ash almost dropping the vase in the process. Eiji covers his face to keep the giggles from escaping. Ash should be offended, yet he’s more charmed than anything.

 

Michael bounds his way to the car and quickly jumps into the back. When Ash puts the key into the ignition, Michael pokes his head from behind, making Ash flinch and slam his hand against the car’s horn by accident. He sends him a glare which only brews a grin from Michael.

 

“Ya know? Shorter is right.”

 

Ash raises a brow, “About what?”

 

“You had _the look_ when you were talking with him.”

 

Ash groans, “I did not!”

 

Michael bursts out laughing and Ash tries his best to maintain the flush rising on his face. He  _did not_ have  _the look._


	3. my boss is tom nook in disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiji gets a roommate, Yut-Lung tries his shot at flirting, and Ash gets betrayed by his so-called friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much trouble writing this chapter for some reason?? The next one will be fun to write though!

“I hope you had a great day today, Mr. Root,“ Eiji says softly as water sprinkles down from a watering can to the weeping fig tree. With all of Eiji’s love and devotion, Mr. Root’s leaves are becoming more vibrant each day. The plant also grew an inch or two taller, and Eiji cannot be prouder. “As well as you, Mrs. Bloom,” he now directs to the yellow orchids sitting on the dining table.

 

Eiji’s snug apartment is a greenhouse. It's become a home for all stray plants who didn’t make the cut for radiant bouquets or cozy vases. They were yellowing and wilting in their lonesome while the others got carried home, but before they threw the withering ones out, Eiji would halt and take them home. Mostly out of guilt, like he’s to blame for them not being appealing to the eye. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and Eiji finds something amiable about these odd ones out.

 

“I did not forget about you, Baby Sprout!” He croons to the tiny pot of pink bromeliads that perch on his living room coffee table. The newest and smallest addition to the Brady-bunch.

 

Eiji knows it’s strange to grow attached to his plants. He knows it’s stranger he grants each one a name. But it brings him comfort. It eases the loneliness he's felt since leaving his home in Izumo to study abroad. Although two years have gone and past, the ghost of longing for home always lurks. And it follows, and follows, and bangs on his heart and soul.

 

It’s inconvenient how happy memories can bring overwhelming waves of grief.

 

Eiji tries not to dwell. He attempts to move forward and appreciate the little things in present-time.

 

And sometimes that came in the form of flowers growing tall in clay pots.

 

It takes Eiji thirty minutes to complete his rounds of watering each plant in his apartment, all while soft classical music fills the room. He read somewhere music helps in the development of plant growth, and if Mr. Root has grown a few inches taller, then it must be working.

 

He settles himself into one of the chairs at the dining room table with his laptop open and cup of coffee by his side as he continues the photography project he's been meaning to complete. His eyes are glued to the screen, touching up and refining each image in his project file. By the time he finishes, he sees it’s long past midnight, his assignment having taken up all of his evening.

 

Eiji sighs as he shuts the lid and strolls to the bathroom to wash himself up before bed. His days are long with work and school, and his nights fall short and cold. So when it's all over and done with, Eiji yearns for his fluffy blanket and pillow. Those are the second little things Eiji learns to appreciate, and they bring him just as much comfort and joy as his potted plants.

 

Eiji dives face-first into his pillow and clings to it after wrapping himself in his blanket. He reaches out to shut the lamp by his bedside, taking a few seconds in his struggle to find the pull-chain switch. When the lights are out, Eiji snuggles himself deeper into his bed and waits for his eyelids to grow heavy and heavier until they ultimately shut.

 

The chance for sleep, however, dies shortly when a buzz is heard at the door. After a long week of photography assignments, bees mobbing the flower shop, and facing first-hand embarrassment from failing to properly talk to a cute boy, Eiji cannot believe the universe is stripping his once chance of tranquility away.

 

Being woken up at two o’clock in the morning is _not_ one of the little things he appreciates.

 

Eiji begrudgingly gets out of bed and slips into his slippers before walking to the door. After rubbing his eyes, Eiji opens the door without checking the peephole, something he should do in this late hour of the night. At this point, he doesn’t care. All he wants is sleep, and if a burglar wants to break and enter, so be it. As long as he has his fluffy blanket, pillow, and plants.

 

It’s the little things, he’ll always say.

 

When he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, he sees it’s not a burglar. It’s plausibly worse than a burglar.

 

No, _definitely_ worse.

 

There at his door, at two o’clock in the morning, stands his boss, Yut-Lung. His hair is up in a messy bun, he has two suitcases ( _three_ counting the one lingering behind him) in his hands, and there’s an impassive look on his face. Eiji shouldn’t be surprised. This is a Yut-Lung thing to do. A _very_ Yut-Lung thing to do.

 

“I’m staying here tonight.”

 

That’s all he says. No context, no nothing.

 

Eiji tries to find words, but before he can say anything, Yut-Lung is already making himself at home. “Can you be a dear and get my other suitcase for me, Eiji? I’d appreciate it.”

 

He sighs, and reluctantly drags the heavy suitcase inside. Eiji stands with his arms crossed before Yut-Lung, trying to be as intimidating as he can be in his sleepy state. He won’t come around for whatever Yut-Lung wants this time.

 

“Lee Yut-Lung, do you know what time it is?” Eiji scolds, watching Yut-Lung unpack what seems to be clothing too elegant for nightwear. When he takes too long to answer, Eiji does so for him. “It is two o’clock in the morning!”

 

Yut-Lung massages his temples and lets out an exasperate exhale, “Yes, Eiji. I’m aware.”

 

“So,” Eiji folds his arms across his chest. He won’t come around. “ _Why_ are you here at two o’clock in the morning?”

 

Yut-Lung stands up from his seat on the couch and crosses his arms too. Eiji knows he’s trying to win in this intimidation game with him. He won't let him.

 

“I can’t be home right now.”

 

Eiji narrows his eyes, “Why?”

 

“I just can’t,” he replies with a half-shrug then resumes to pull out his blanket from a different suitcase.

 

For a moment, Eiji worries. He can’t ignore how Yut-Lung avoids spilling out his true feelings without someone constantly encouraging him to speak up about them. Most of the time, that someone is Eiji, and Eiji just can’t let Yut-Lung be upset all the time. And for someone as theatrical as Yut-Lung, he can be oddly coy with his emotions.

 

“Yue,” Eiji gestures for him to sit back down and he does. He sits beside him and notices Yut-Lung trying to avert his eyes from meeting his own. “Is there something wrong? Do you not feel safe at home?”

 

Yut-Lung bites his lip and fiddles with the clothes and blanket between his hands. “No, I don’t.”

 

Eiji’s eyes widen, “Is someone bothering you?”

 

“Sort of.” Yut-Lung shudders, “I heard a squeak.”

 

“A squeak?”

 

He nods, clutching to the fabric tighter. “And scratching.”

 

“Scratching?”

 

“Yes.” He pales, “Eiji, I think there’s a mouse in my apartment.”

 

Eiji should laugh. He should wave off Yut-Lung dismissively and tell him to head on home. Instead, he blinks and attempts to think of a solution.

 

“Why don’t you call your landlady?” He suggests.

 

“She isn’t picking up!” Yut-Lung leans back into the couch and frowns, “It’s two o’clock in the morning, Eiji. I can’t just go banging at her door at this hour! I’m a decent person.”

 

Eiji’s fingers steeple. It genuinely takes a load of strength for him not to lose his composure. He counts to three and exhales, “How are you sure it is a mouse?”

 

“I saw it while I was packing,” Yut-Lung explains, hugging the fabrics tight against his chest. “Listen, if you don’t want me here then get it out of my house and I’ll be on my merry way.”

 

Eiji shrinks back and hunches his shoulders. He’s tired, he craves sleep, and he _thought_ he felt capable of solving any issue to get that sleep, but dealing with Yut-Lung’s mouse problem is not one of them. Not because he knows it'll require extra work, but because it’s a mouse problem.

 

Eiji is terrified of mice.

 

“Fine, you can stay,” he complies which elicits a brief smile from Yut-Lung. “I only have an air mattress, if you do not mind?”

 

Yut-Lung grimaces briefly but collects himself back to a blank stare. “That will be fine.”

 

While Eiji pushes the coffee table to the side of the living room and sets up the air mattress, Yut-Lung is washing himself up in the bathroom for what seems like ages. Eiji waits cross-legged by the side of the mattress so he can shut off the lights after Yut-Lung settles in. When he’s finally out of the bathroom, Yut-Lung immediately collapses on to the air mattress with a thump and groans, causing a giggle to stir up from Eiji.

 

“Oh, Eiji. I would have raised your pay if I knew you lived in these conditions,” he mumbles through the pillow he’s gripping on to.

 

Eiji’s lips press together. “I live perfectly fine! You are just spoiled.”

 

Yut-Lung turns himself around still clinging to the pillow. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

 

Eiji shakes his head, standing up and making his way to the light switch. Yut-Lung nods, signaling him to shut them off.

 

Within the pitch black, Eiji hears a mumbled “thank you.”

* * *

When Eiji wakes up, he almost forgets Yut-Lung slept over until he sees the bundle in his living room, hair disheveled and body nearly slipping from the edge of the mattress. In just one night, Eiji learns plenty of habits that come with rooming with Yut-Lung. The first involves the major frenzy Yut-Lung goes through when he realizes he’s half-past his alarm. He rambled on about how he was going to be late for work despite the shop not opening for two hours. His second discovery is he realizes one of Yut-Lung’s suitcases is solely dedicated to beauty products, which ultimately leaves Eiji waiting by the door until Yut-Lung finished his laundry list that is his beauty regimen. And lastly, it does, in fact, take Yut-Lung an hour to get his hair done.

 

All in all, they manage to get to the shop a minute before opening on foot. Whether they arrive on time or not wouldn’t have made a difference considering how slow business is going. In the past four hours, only a handful of their regulars come in to pick up arrangements, and for the most part, Eiji has spent his available time taking pictures for their shop’s Instagram page. Saturdays are normally their busier days, second to Wrap-Up Wednesdays, but today is oddly a quiet moment for them.

 

“Something’s wrong.”

 

Eiji glances up from his camera and sees Yut-Lung staring pensively out the window. His arms are crossed and he makes no move to meet eyes with Eiji's.

 

Eiji hums, “What do you mean?”

 

Yut-Lung turns around, peeking over his shoulder to check the window every few times. “I think this is an omen.”

 

“An omen?”

 

He nods, “Ever since that _jerk_ ⸺”

 

“Ash?” Eiji cuts in, eyes brightening slightly. Yut-Lung’s glare, however, shuts down any semblance of wonder.

 

His brows draw together. “Yeah, Ash, whatever. Anyway,” he resumes. “Ever since he’s been here, we’ve barely had any customers. Except for Thursday which, funny enough, is the one day he’s absent.”

 

“But he is not here today,” Eiji remarks while snapping pictures of the begonia display. “Maybe it is the bees again.”

 

Yut-Lung blows out his cheeks. “It’s not the bees, don’t defend him!”

 

“I am not defending him,” Eiji snickers. “I am merely telling you there is no way Ash is a bad omen.”

 

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Yut-Lung huffs, marching his way over to the counter. “I’m ordering us a pizza because I’m having a stressful day.”

 

“How is pizza going to help you with stress?”

 

“It just does, Eiji!”

 

The next few minutes consist of Yut-Lung waiting by the doorway, occupying himself with watering the flowers in the surrounding area. At times, Eiji sees Yut-Lung stare out the glass door, longingly, almost overwatering the bunch of pink camellias a few times in his mesmeric state. Eiji smiles, knowing he’s waiting for the same delivery boy who takes up the same order each time. He thinks it’s sweet how the two are too stubborn to admit they’re longing for one another. As saccharine and comical their despising-each-other charade is, it’s a dangerous game they play.

 

In a time where love has become an albatross hanging around their neck, Sing and Yut-Lung do no have that privilege of sitting on their hands.

 

Eiji points his camera to Yut-Lung looking at the doorway and snapping a picture, the clicking sound causing him to turn around.

 

Yut-Lung raises a brow, “What are you doing?”

 

“What are _you_ doing?” Eiji asks with a smirk.

 

He purses his lips, cheeks turning red. “Nothing.”

 

It’s never nothing. Eiji knows this, but sometimes he plays along to keep them from arguing.

 

“You should ask him,” Eiji suggests. If Yut-Lung isn’t going to figure it out himself, Eiji will have to guide him in the right direction. “I’m sure Sing feels the same way.”

 

“ _What_ ,” Yut-Lung stammers. He tries to hide his blush by watering the rest of the camellias, but his hands almost give up the grasp he has on the watering can. “He does not⸺I don’t⸺“

 

“You don’t what?”

 

Yut-Lung whips his head to the direction of the voice, face mortified when he realizes it’s none other than Sing. Although the red in his cheeks sink deeper, Yut-Lung manages to compose himself rapidly, but Eiji’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter and Sing’s confused blinking make it difficult to keep up his facade.

 

“Did you break my doorbell?” Yut-Lung deflects. “I didn’t hear it when you came in.”

 

Sing’s face twists, “No, I didn’t. It rang.” He uses his free hand to poke at the center of Yut-Lung’s temple. “You were just too busy in here to notice I arrived.”

 

“I was not!”

 

“You were!”

 

“No, I wasn’t!”

 

Sing looks over at Eiji for help, and he nods. “He is right, Yue. You were.”

 

Yut-Lung crosses his arms and scoffs, “Well, unlike you Sing, I have several things on my mind.”

 

Sing seethes, shoving the pizza box in Yut-Lung’s hands. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

 

“I do!” Yut-Lung says, sharply. “For one, there’s a mouse terrorizing my apartment that’s practically keeping me hostage at Eiji’s house for a whole week because, apparently, my landlord’s on vacation so she can’t solve my problem.”

 

Eiji gawks, “You are staying for a week?”

 

Yut-Lung ignores his comment. “Second,” he ticks off a second finger on his free hand. “I have five more boxes of calendulas to get rid of before they turn my shop into a beehive or wither away.”

 

Sing’s brows furrow. “What are calendulas?”

 

“You’re so uneducated, Sing,” Yut-Lung taunts before continuing. “ _And_ , I need to make plans for next weekend because I cannot stay cooped up in Eiji’s claustrophobic apartment for so long.”

 

“Well,” Sing clenches his fists, lips pressed together. His expression contorts between a mixture of anger and nervousness. Eiji thinks he’s imagining the light pink dusting across Sing’s face, but his next words confirm why he’s so flustered. “I’m free next weekend too!”

 

Yut-Lung blinks. He’s taken aback. The awkward silence that follows gives Eiji the chance to walk up to Yut-Lung and take the pizza box from his hands, waking the other from his trance. Eiji quickly circuits behind the counter to watch the longlasting charade finally fall apart.

 

It only took four months for one of them to finally make a move.

 

“I like movies,” Yut-Lung blurts out. “And food. I really enjoy food.”

 

Sing’s mouth trembles between a nervous frown and an astonishing smile. He looks like he’s short-circuiting. “I-I like movies and food too,” Sing repeats. “I can take you to movies and food next weekend. That’s if, you know, if you want?”

 

Eiji brightens watching the interaction unfold. They both look and sound stupid, and it takes Eiji back to when Ash asked for “dumbass flowers” and he sold him red geraniums. Sing and Yut-Lung’s faces were the color of those red imposter roses and, in an ironic way, geraniums symbolize their confession accurately.

 

“Sure, on one condition.”

 

Then again, Yut-Lung is a plot twist.

 

All signs of nervousness are wiped from Sing’s features. Rather, they’re replaced with irritation.

 

“You just have to make it difficult to ask you on a date, don’t you?” Sing says with a click of his tongue.

 

“I’m an enigma, Sing,” he professes. “I can’t be wooed that easily.”

 

Eiji knows that’s a lie. He recollects the first time Yut-Lung decided to phone-in an order after a particularly busy Christmas Eve. Their frequented eateries were all closed early for the holidays, leaving them with minimal choices: molding gas station food or pizza. The choice was apparent and the minute Sing took the first step inside, Yut-Lung had gone at it with insulting Sing’s uniform.

 

_“They make you wear an orange polo with a pepperoni-patterned hat? Disgusting.”_

 

_“Sorry, we all can’t dress like we came straight out of a magazine!”_

 

Yut-Lung had taken that as a compliment. From that day forward, Eiji became a spectator of this sweet-and-sour relationship.

 

“Fine. What’s your condition?”

 

“Buy a box of calendulas,” he poses. “I’ll even cut the price down to half.”

 

“How about more than half?” Sing bargains. “ _And_ I’ll buy you a large popcorn.”

 

Yut-Lung hums. His dramatic pauses make Sing’s eyes roll. “Deal. Pick me up at six.”

 

Sing’s face lighting up and hands clenching into fists from elation induces a grin from Yut-Lung. Eiji can’t help but feel pure joy for both of them, either because the charade is finally over or Yut-Lung is safe from the potential of petals clogging his throat. Regardless, this moment is one of those little things Eiji learns to appreciate: love being reciprocated.

 

Sing heads out with a box full to the brim with orange petals. Yut-Lung is left with an unconscious smile on his face. And Eiji remains to wonder how he’s going to deal with an enamored Yut-Lung for a week.

 

Somehow, Eiji doesn’t feel bothered.

* * *

“You need to stop lying, Sing. It’s not good for you. I can already tell you grew an inch taller from lying. You don’t want to become Pinocchio do you, Sing?”

 

“I’m not lying!” Sing defends. “And Pinocchio's _nose_ grew. How do you not know this, Ash?”

 

“This is so fucked,” Shorter crosses his arms and leans deeper into the couch. “I get Hanahaki, but Mister Pepperoni Hat here scores a date _and_ plans to ditch out on game night? I miss short and modest Sing.”

 

“But Ash, you said you might cancel game night because dad is making you work on his wedding planning appointments,” Michael chimes in. “He says you need to help him make last minute changes to the centerpieces, remember?”

 

Shorter groans, “I get out of the hospital just to receive more bad news. This is horrible. I hate all of you.” He bumps his fist softly against Michael's head who's sitting next to him, “Except you, Michael. You’re okay.”

 

Game night is usually the one time of the week where Ash and the others can relax from the stresses of everyday life. The evening mainly consists of video games, cheap pizza, and bullying Sing because of his lack of skill. Ash finds their Saturday shenanigans to be his favorite part of the week especially the third activity, and maybe Sing doesn’t find that part fun, but he can care less.

 

(That’s a lie, Ash does care, but he won’t ever admit it to his face. He’ll only stop when he notices Sing is borderline hurt.)

 

Although most nights tend to become chaotic, tonight so happens to surpass all other nights when Sing chose to break the news about his out of the blue date next Saturday during mid-game of Ash trying to reclaim his winning streak.

 

The first time he announces it, he is met with silent disbelief. The second time around doesn’t help his case either. It only gets him labeled a liar. Sing can never win when it comes to game nights.

 

“Who is it?” Shorter probes. “Do we know them? What are they like?”

 

Ash hits the pause button after kicking Shorter’s King K Rool off a ledge, earning a screech from Shorter and a laughing fest from Michael. Ash peers over at Sing, who has been isolated to the lounge chair for being “troublesome.”

 

“I still don’t believe you.”

 

Sing glares at Ash and goes back to Shorter’s questions. “I don’t think so. He works across the street from me,” he shares. “He’s um, to put it lightly...he’s _a lot_.”

 

Shorter raises his sunglasses to look at him skeptically. “Exactly what type of guy are you dating, Sing?”

 

Ash notices Sing is trying to fight off the small pull at the corner of his lips. _What a dumbass_ is all Ash can think.

 

“The oddest kind,” Sing answers

 

Shorter shakes his head, “You should have gone for more of Ash’s type.”

 

“Ash’s type?” Sing looks at him confused. “What’s Ash’s type?”

 

Ash immediately sits up and lifts a finger, “Don’t even sta⸺”

 

“The Bugz-epitomized type,” he cuts off. “Ash has it bad for him.”

 

“I do not!” Ash groans, “I talked to him once!”

 

“Twice, actually,” Michael interjects. “We went to see him yesterday! You were right, Shorter. He did have _the look._ You should have seen him, he would not stop staring.”

 

Ash secretly unpauses the game and blasts Michael’s Sonic and Sing’s Wario off the ledge, declaring Ash’s Samus the winner. The other two shriek while Shorter cackles, the noise causing Jessica to walk out from her office to calm the uproar. The four of them apologize with the false promise of keeping quiet. Staying quiet doesn’t always work well when they’re together.

 

“You went to see him again?” Shorter loudly whispers in an attempt to keep himself from getting scolded by Jessica again. “Did you get his number this time?”

 

“I didn’t. We spoke to each other twice. That would be weird,” he states. “Besides, he’s probably not interested.”

 

“He’s interested,” Michael speaks up. “I can tell.”

 

Shorter folds his arms with a smile. “Well, would you look at that! If Michael says Florist Bugz really does like you then it must be true!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Sing intervenes. “Who exactly are all of you talking about?”

 

“Florist Bugz!” Shorter and Michael say simultaneously. Ash grumbles in the background.

 

“Yeah, that doesn’t explain anything.”

 

Ash really just wants to implode while Shorter goes on his spiel about who “Florist Bugz” is. His chin is propped on the palm of his hand while his elbow rests on the couch arm. He can feel his face heating up more and more with Shorter babbling on about bogus assumptions of Ash being head over heels for Eiji. That’s not the case. Of course, it’s not.

 

“His name is Eiji!” Michael pitches in.

 

Sing’s jaw drops, “Eiji?”

 

“Yeah,” Michael goes on, innocently. “He has big, brown eyes and we all know how much Ash likes big, brown eyes.”

 

“Wait, hold on. You mean, Eiji, the florist? The one who works at Dragon’s Garden?”

 

Ash immediately perks up, “Yeah? What, why? How do you know him?”

 

Shorter hums, placing a finger to his chin. “Now that I think about it, that place does sound familiar.”

 

“It’s the flower shop across the street from my job,” Sing explains. “The guy I asked on a date works there.”

 

Ash’s eyes widen. His face then scrunches up in disgust. “Please tell me you’re not seeing fucking Yue-what’s-his-face, are you?”

 

Sing blinks, “...Yes?”

 

There are several moments in his life where Ash can recall being betrayed by the people he trusted. There was that one time when he was ten when Griffin brought home a pumpkin for them to carve for Halloween despite knowing Ash’s fear of them. Griffin had tried to explain it slipped from his memory, but Ash didn’t believe him. Or that one moment when Ash was twelve, a few months after being adopted, when Max had won at a game of Uno using a Wild Draw Four card. From that day on, Jessica had to place a ban on Uno from family game night because Ash had given Max the silent treatment for two weeks straight. She was worried it would tear their family apart.

 

Nothing, however, can surmount to the betrayal he feels when Sing confirms his suspicions.

 

“I hate you, Sing,” Ash gripes. “You’re truly the worst.”

 

While he may or may not be crushing on Eiji, at least he doesn’t have bad taste like Sing.

 

At least Ash adores a sunny, warm Spring day over blood and thunder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm writing a sitcom that's eventually going to turn angsty lol. I hope you enjoyed!


	4. no one will hear you, 52 blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash starts discourse with Max, A date and a not-date occur, and Eiji catches an odd cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to share something: The 52-Hertz Whale is known as the world's loneliest whale because it calls at an unusual frequency of 52 Hz, meaning other whales can't hear it. Just...just lettin' you all know lol.
> 
> Anyways, sorry for the delay! Homework was keeping me from writing and I have mid-terms coming up. This chapter also got really long and I just didn't know where to stop lol. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

Ash learns snake-incarnate’s name is Yut-Lung Lee and he hates him.

 

Maybe hate is a strong word for someone he only met twice, and Griffin always made a point of never judging a book by its cover. But this _asshole_ makes it challenging not to picture him as the chemistry book strewn somewhere across his room. And Ash really, _really_ hates that book.

 

What enhances Yut-Lung’s snake image is his success in slithering his way past Ash’s supposed friends. Somehow, any mention of Yut-Lung manages to make Sing form the most repelling, dopiest smile on his face that Ash wants to PK Fire off him. He’s convinced Yut-Lung bewitched him or something because no matter how much he tries, Ash cannot see what’s so... _endearing_ about Yut-Lung. Whatever it is, it has Sing go into a craze over his date tonight, spamming Ash’s phone with panicked messages about not wanting to disappoint him.

 

Needless to say, Ash is annoyed.

 

“Ash, can you please shut your phone off? I’m trying to explain what changes we need to make!”

 

Ash flips his phone over on the table and slouches deeper in his seat. He peers over the photograph Max has been trying to show him for the past five minutes. It’s of the [centerpiece](https://emmalovesweddings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/rustic-elegance-wedding-centerpiece-ideas-with-lanterns-and-babys-breathe.jpg) Max chose for the reception. There Baby’s Breath in glass jars with a rose gold ribbon attached. The jar stands next to a bronze lantern, all on top of a wood round. It’s a simple design, but chic. Ash oddly likes it and was initially shocked to find out Max was the one who chose the design.

 

“It looks fine to me. Why do you want to change it?”

 

Max circles a finger on the ribbon tied around the jar. “I was thinking it would look better with a champagne color instead.”

 

“You know you’re just inconveniencing them with these changes, right?”

 

“It has to be perfect, Ash!” Max protests. “And perfect means a champagne-colored ribbon!”

 

Ash rests his chin on his palm and sighs exasperatedly. Listening to Max’s external conflict over minuscule details for the past week is another case driving Ash up the wall. Perhaps it’s the wedding jitters or Max’s need for redemption after the mess that was their first wedding, but whatever it is, Ash can’t wait for it all to be over. He wants to go back to taking long naps after flying through his homework, maybe learn that avocado shrimp salad recipe he saw on some blog, and get back his fucking winning streak he so rightfully earned. He’s tired of waking up to Max’s early morning doubts about Jessica changing her mind. Ash doesn’t have the faintest idea why Max supposes Jessica will suddenly back out from renewing their vows just because he landed himself in the hospital for not tying his shoes. Nevertheless, Ash finds it hysterical that Max has gone through every pair of shoe in his closet and tied each one, watching various tutorials online that give the best tips on keeping his shoelaces secured. Those are the days Ash is immensely grateful for being adopted into the Glenreed family.

 

“They’re going to hate you for wanting a change of ribbons,” Ash jokes. “Especially when you’re changing it for champagne.”

 

“You really can’t be telling me you prefer rose gold over champagne.”

 

Ash looks at him, deadpanned. “Everyone prefers rose gold over champagne.”

 

“Don’t⸺” Max freezes for a moment, then narrows his eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

 

Ash shrugs, innocently, blinking a few times. “I’m not doing anything.”

 

“You’re trying to trick me into sticking with rose gold so you won’t have to do anything!”

 

He scoffs, indignantly. Ash is always being incriminated in this house. “Not true! I’m trying to save you from the embarrassment of going with something as tacky as champagne.”

 

There’s a pregnant pause. Max’s eyes burn with scrutiny like he’s trying to get Ash to crack, but there’s nothing to crack. Ash knows for a fact no one in their right fucking mind would prefer champagne over rose gold.  

 

Apparently, Max doesn’t.

 

“Nice try. I better see champagne ribbons on those centerpieces next Sunday.”

 

_Well, shit._

 

“No one gives a fuck about champagne ribbons,” Ash mutters, jamming his phone back in his pocket and snatching the keys off the table. He got granted temporary car privileges until the wedding day which Ash sees as both a blessing and a curse. Mainly a curse since the only time he can get around to driving is when Max is making him run errands. Jessica always reminds him it’s the price he has to pay for breaking the kitchen window during an intense game of laser tag. Shorter is to blame, but Ash became the scapegoat. Had Shorter not gotten them banned from their local arcade for accidentally tearing down one of the arena walls, the window would have never been broken in the first place and Ash would still be driving around the city picking up midnight snacks.

 

Before he heads out the door, Ash realizes he has no clue where he’s supposed to be going. “You didn’t even tell me where the damn place is.”

 

“I did. Twice,” he remarks, standing up from his chair then hobbles over to Ash. Max still isn’t accustomed to maneuvering himself around with the cast. Ash always teases him that he looks like a penguin. “You were too busy on that mind-numbing machine to pay attention to what I was saying.”

 

“Just call it a phone, old man.” Ash snorts, taking the business card from Max’s hand. His eyes light up when he notices the card’s design. It’s a dragon wrapping itself around the shop’s name.

 

The Dragon’s Garden.

 

“You know the place, right?” Max asks, shuffling back to his seat. “It’s the same place you bought the bouquet from. They’re closing in less than forty minutes so you better hurry.”

 

Ash reads the card over once, twice, then one last time to ensure he doesn’t make a fool of himself for showing up at the wrong flower shop. He can’t have Shorter thinking he has some sort of crush on Eiji because he _doesn’t_.

 

It’s just a coincidence. A very crazy coincidence.

* * *

“My date is in less than _two hours_ and this damn client hasn’t shown up yet! It takes me an hour just to get my hair done, Eiji. What am I supposed to do?”

 

Yut-Lung walks to the counter and plasters his upper body against it, whining under his breath. Eiji pats the top of his head. Sometimes he feels like he isn’t paid enough despite dealing with Yut-Lung’s melodrama on a daily basis.

 

They've been waiting for their client for a few minutes now. The second the clock struck half-past four, Yut-Lung was already at the window, lying in wait to get the appointment done, lock up the store, and leave. Yet, five minutes go by since the client’s appointment time with no client in sight and Yut-Lung is boiling.

 

“I am sure Sing will not mind if you are a few minutes late,” Eiji assures.

 

Yut-Lung lifts his head up and rests his chin on both hands. There’s a pout etched on his face. “This is our first date. I can’t be late on our first date, Eiji. That would be rude.”

 

Eiji shakes his head with a smile. He copies Yut-Lung’s position and gives him a mocking pout, “But you are always rude to him.” His eyes then flash with acute realization, “And me!”

 

Yut-Lung gapes, straightening himself up. “What? When have I ever been rude to you?”

 

Many times. Just yesterday Yut-Lung insulted the pot Mrs. Bloom resides in. Although Eiji wasn’t the target of Yut-Lung’s sharp tongue, Mrs. Bloom was, and Eiji is sure if plants had feelings, hers would be hurt. That leaves Eiji to carry the heavy burden of being offended on behalf of his plants.

 

“You are always calling me short!”

 

“No, Eiji, that’s not being rude,” Yut-Lung says with a sigh. He places a hand on Eiji’s shoulder and looks him directly in the eye. “That’s just telling the truth.”

 

Eiji puffs out his cheeks and glowers. “That does not make sense because I am taller than you! Shouldn’t _I_ be calling _you_ short?”

 

“There’s a difference. I’m 21 and still growing,” he reports. “While you’re 24 and the chances of that happening are likely over.”

 

Eiji glares at him for a moment. He reaches his arm out, flicking Yut-Lung on the forehead.

 

Yut-Lung winces and covers his temple. “Ow, Eiji! You see, _that’s_ being rude!” He tries to return the flick back, but Eiji pushes his hand away. Yut-Lung is relentless though, so it takes Eiji a surprising amount of strength to swat his arm back.

 

In the middle of Eiji shielding his temple from Yut-Lung’s flailing arms, the store bell’s jingle catches their attention. Eiji’s arms remain closed over his face. He creates an opening to peek through and sees who the complacent face at the entrance is. The corners of his lips curve up.

 

“Oh, fuck no.”

 

“You really need to learn how to greet your customers better. It’s ruining your business.”

 

Ash stands there in all his glory, hands in his pockets and smug smile in place. He crosses over to the counter, smirk still set and eyes stay studying Yut-Lung’s soul. Eiji shouldn’t feel charmed. It’s the wrong time to feel charmed, especially when his irate boss is right beside him having another staredown with possibly his worst customer since the venus flytrap bouquet guy. Yet, Eiji can’t help but smile.

 

Yut-Lung balls his hands at his sides. Eiji fastens his focus on him. Catching a glimpse of green eyes only makes him skittish. “You better not be the client with the appointment or I swear I’ll⸺”

 

“I’m the client with the appointment.”

 

Yut-Lung’s fist meets the counter, inducing a flinch from Eiji and a sneer from Ash. “Eiji.”

 

 _Damn it_. The honeyed voice again.

 

Eiji bites his lip, feeling reluctant to respond. “Yes, Yue?”

 

“Do you have a spare key to your apartment?” He asks, pulling out his backpack from underneath the counter. Yut-Lung placed it there earlier so he could sprint out the minute the shop closed. “You’ll be handling his appointment. I really can’t be around him. You know how dangerous it is for me to be near anyone with the Dumbass Disease, don’t you?”

 

Ash scoffs, “Whatever the fuck that is, you’ll probably be getting it with the way Sing has been acting over you.”

 

Both of their eyes go round. Yut-Lung gawks, his words trap between his throat leaving him speechless.

 

“How do you know Sing?” He manages to splutter out.

 

“I’ve known him since he was 14,” Ash discloses, albeit tartly. “I used to be his math tutor.”

 

Yut-Lung recoils. He slaps both hands against his forehead and remains still like he’s trying to process all the new information he's learned in a span of a minute. Eiji’s eyes shift between Yut-Lung’s disbelief state and Ash’s listless gaze. Sometimes, Eiji wonders if there’s such a thing as an “enemy soulmate” because Ash must certainly be Yut-Lung’s. The idea almost makes him laugh, but the sudden clink of keys hitting the surface in front of him pulls Eiji away from those silly thoughts.

 

“Yeah, no, definitely not staying here any longer than this,” Yut-Lung declares, walking around the counter and starts marching his way towards the door. “I’ll see you at home, Eiji. And _please_  come back a sensible person, not a mesh of idiocy like,” he points at Ash, revolted, “ _That._ ”

 

“But Yue, I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to⸺”

 

The door shuts before he can finish his sentence. Eiji looks up to meet a pair of green eyes and a small smile.

 

His heartbeat quickens.

* * *

Yut-Lung smacks Sing’s arm when they finally arrive at the parking lot of the movie theater after minutes of bumbling small talk and short pauses.

 

“ _Ow!_ What the fuck?” Sing glares at him.

 

Yut-Lung pouts, looking out the car window with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

Sing is impeccable. Tall, handsome, and practically big-hearted to the point of foolishness; it’s all Yut-Lung ever wanted. He hates how picturesque Sing is, how radiant he always appears to be. Sort of like Eiji, but different.

 

Sing makes him want to crush the fluttering butterflies in his stomach then bring them back to life and apologize to them. It’s hard to explain. He doesn’t do feelings very well, but it’s the best yet most appalling image he can think to explain it.

 

“Found out you’re connected to that jerk,” Yut-Lung mutters, sinking in his seat. He isn’t upset, more stunned than anything, but he needs to keep up his charade. What charade? He’s not sure. Whichever one hides the crimson from rising to his cheeks in the midst of this dead air.

 

Sing takes his keys out of the ignition. Yut-Lung can see him glancing over at him from the corner of his eye. “Who are you talking about?”

 

“That asshole,” Yut-Lung says, acidly. When he feels his face is safe from turning beet red, he turns to look at a confused Sing. “Ash.”

 

Sing blinks. His perplexity only makes it harder for Yut-Lung to keep his set frown. He finds his expression annoyingly sweet.

 

Sing simpers, “I’ve heard about you two’s...rivalry? Quarrel?”

 

Yut-Lung cuts him off, “Definitely not a rivalry. I’m much better than him.”

 

He rolls his eyes, “Well, anyway, I’ve heard the gist of it.”

 

“He’s horrible. I can’t believe you’re friends with someone like _that_.”

 

Sing sighs, “Trust me, sometimes I wonder that too.” He shrugs, “But you two are kind of similar in a few ways.”

 

Yut-Lung scowls, “That is so offensive, Sing! Do I even want to go on this date with you?”

 

Sing takes in the sight of Yut-Lung’s pouting face for a few seconds. Seconds turn into minutes, or what feels like minutes, and the silence doesn’t help Yut-Lung stay composed. He feels the red creeping up his cheeks again and the small smile playing on Sing’s lips speeds the process.

 

Sing steps out of the car, going around to open Yut-Lung’s door. “Yup, this date is definitely still on.” He helps Yut-Lung out, linking his arm around his, the gesture kindling Yut-Lung’s heart to skip a beat.

 

There are several times Yut-Lung needs to take a minute to catch his breath. He’s trying to seem cool and sophisticated, but cool and sophisticated is impossible when Sing does simple, endearing things like pulling out his chair when they’re out eating dinner or letting him borrow his ugly jacket when the movie theater gets too cold.

 

He’s enjoying himself and it's weird. Like it’s too good to be true. Everything always seems too good to be true, and the one time things seem to be going well, they always turn.

 

But so far today, it hasn’t, and there’s this teeny bit of paranoia resting at the bottom of Yut-Lung’s mind that this might all be a dream. He’s scared to wake up to the revelation that the date never happened, that Sing is only a figment of his imagination, and that he actually hates popcorn.

 

It’s the dumbest theory, possibly one of the stupidest things he's ever thought of, but he can’t help feeling some doubt.

 

Those qualms erupt when Yut-Lung feels fingers intertwine with his own. His head whips toward Sing, and he’s thankful the blaring music of the credits scene drowns out his rapid heartbeat.

 

“What is it?” His voice is quieter than usual. Sing has to lean in closer so Yut-Lung can hear him repeat himself. It drives his heart mad.

 

This date is happening. Sing is real. He _loves_ popcorn.

 

It’s almost relieving to have Sing’s kind hold on his hand crush every doubt Yut-Lung has running through his mind. What’s not relieving is how with every passing second, Sing’s palms seem to be getting sweatier. It’s really gross, not cute at all, but Yut-Lung is alleviated he’s not the only one who's nervous.

 

He should comment on it. Instead, he chooses to hold on.

 

If Yut-Lung can handle a blonde, dumbass customer and a mouse claiming his apartment, he can handle sweaty hands.

 

That’s why he’s employee of the month after all.

 

“Do you want to stay till the end?” Sing stammers out. His lips are compressed and Sing is trying to maintain eye contact. The random flashes from the credits rolling help Yut-Lung see the ruby rising on Sing's own cheeks.

 

He holds his hand tighter and gives him a half shrug, “Sure.”

 

There’s a small clip that plays at end of the credits. Their hands stay laced together for the entirety of the wait.

 

Yut-Lung is over the moon.

* * *

“You want...champagne?”

 

“Yeah, I know, it’s a stupid choice. I tried explaining it to him a million times.”

 

Ash watches Eiji fumble with a pen between his fingers, dropping it a few times when writing down Ash’s request. It’s clear he's never handled an appointment alone before, but Ash sees he’s trying his best and trying is enough for him.

 

Eiji is patient and unhurried despite the shop nearing its closing time. He even pulls up a stool for Ash to sit on while he tries to find the binder with all the booking information. A mess of filing cabinets and drawers later, Eiji finally finds it between a nook in the one place he didn’t check. Ash wants to chuckle, but worries it will further Eiji's nervousness.

 

“I think champagne is a lovely choice,” he says with some hesitance at the end. He’s being polite, and it's sweet, but he's also wrong. Eiji must be lying.

 

Ash snorts, “Don’t worry, you can say it. Champagne is an ugly fucking color.”

 

“It is not so bad! You are over exaggerating.”

 

“It looks like hydrated piss. It’s pretty bad.”

 

Eiji laughs infectiously, causing a smile to spread on Ash’s face. It’s a sweet sound, similar to the excitement that rung in his voice when he came in to replace Jessica’s vase a week ago. Florist Bugz might actually be a suitable title for him, seeing how much joy Eiji spills over in a room.

 

“You are very silly, Ash,” he manages to say through all his laughter. A smile fixes itself on Eiji’s lips, seeming more relaxed compared to before. Ash is glad. The least he wants to do is keep his streak of forming bad impressions of himself. Shorter says it’s one of his many talents.

 

“Not silly. Just stating facts.”

 

Eiji shakes his head in amusement then goes back to looking down at the large booking binder. His smile soon tugs downwards, “The wedding is next Sunday?”

 

Ash nods. Eiji’s questioning hum stirs slight concern in him. Max is hellbent on getting stupid champagne ribbons on those jars, and if Ash can’t fight to get them, he’s sure Max’s whining will increase tenfold.

 

Whatever. It’s Max’s fault for wanting such a short minute change.

 

“If it is only twenty centerpieces,” he starts with minor speculation. “I think there is enough ribbon in the back for us to change it!”

 

Ash tilts his head. “You sure? If it’s too much work, don’t worry about it. Rose gold looks better anyway.”

 

Eiji giggles. A really sweet giggle, Ash credits. “You must really like rose gold.”

 

“I’m just saying. If it comes down to putting my trust in someone who either likes rose gold or champagne, I’m sure as hell not picking the latter.”

 

“What if they like both?”

 

“Who the fuck would like⸺wait,” Ash hesitates. He squints his eyes at Eiji’s playful ones, and for a minute, he almost sees Bugz. Cheeky and impish Bugz. “Do _you_ like both?”

 

Eiji’s eyes wander up at the ceiling, the corners of his lips twitching. A smirk replaces itself within his features. “For now, I will say the customer is always right.”

 

Ash snickers. “Good business move. You should tell that to your friend.”

 

Eiji lets out a breathy laugh. “Yue is very stubborn.”

 

“I can imagine."

 

Eiji dismisses himself for a moment, heading into the backroom. He comes back with three different rolls of champagne ribbons bundled in his arms: a solid color, a transparent one, and another decorated with glitter. He closes the door with his foot and drops the rolls on the counter.

 

Ash picks up one of them, the solid color one, and scrunches his nose. “Well, definitely not this one.”

 

“That is our third most popular choice!”

 

Ash scoffs then smiles wryly, “Do only old people shop here?”

 

Eiji pouts, hands falling on his hips. “As a matter of fact, no!”

 

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

 

“Well, you are here, therefore you are wrong.”

 

Ash rests his cheek against his palm, smirk still settled as he watches Eiji try to stand his ground. He’s surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. Eiji’s bold side, he presumes. It’s nothing like his snake of a boss. It’s more pleasant and kind of funny, especially when he thinks back to how much he resembles Shorter’s Bugz.

 

Ash waves his hand dismissively, “I guess I can’t argue on that one.”

 

“No, you cannot,” he says, taking the roll from his hands and sets them all in a row. Ash, nonetheless, takes it back and builds a tower of the three. Eiji grumbles, “Maybe Yue _is_ right about you.”

 

Ash laughs loudly. “I don’t think taking input from him is the best idea.”

 

Eiji grins. He knocks down the tower with a poke of his finger and bats his lashes at Ash innocently.

 

Ash gasps, piling the rolls back on top of each other. "You’re horrible. That could have been someone’s home.”

 

Eiji rolls his eyes. Ash decides he really likes this other side of him. It’s endearing. Almost the equivalent of how radiant he is when he’s passionately talking about flowers.

 

“You must choose one,” he says, organizing them back into a row. His hand rests on the center to keep Ash from assembling them again. “Choosing the right ribbon always makes the centerpiece more elegant.”

 

Ash snorts. “You sound like my dad. ‘Perfect means a champagne-colored ribbon,’” he mimics using a solid impersonation of Max. His father disagrees, but he can’t respect his opinion anymore after today.

 

Eiji chuckles softly. “He makes a very good point. You must listen to him.”

 

Ash scoffs, “I don’t know about that.” He rests his now folded arms against the counter and sets his chin on them, intently examining the two other choices with narrowed eyes. “Which one do you suggest?”

 

He hums. “For weddings, people normally choose the ones with glitter because they add...” Eiji comes to a sudden halt. He looks up at the ceiling, attempting to search for the right word. His eyes eventually beam, “Pizza!”

 

Ash tilts his head, puzzled. That’s definitely not the word he’s looking for. “Pizza?”

 

“It⸺well, the word _sounds_ like pizza. Yue says it a lot,” he trails off, trying to think of the word again. “It is kind of spelled like it too...”

 

Ash freezes for a moment then grins. “Oh! You mean ‘pizzazz?’”

 

Elation transforms his features. “Yes! Pizzazz! Thank you,” he says excitedly, pink settling on his cheeks. “I-I think the one with glitter can add pizzazz to it.”

 

Ash snickers, “I guess pizzazz will really be needed since we’re sticking with champagne. I’ll take the glitter ones then.”

 

“Sure!” Eiji nods and writes down his new request. “The jars and lanterns have already arrived so we will be able to make the changes quickly. The wood rounds and Baby’s Breath should arrive the day before the wedding.”

 

Ash raises a brow, “Baby’s what?”

 

“Baby’s Breath.” Eiji laughs at Ash’s bemused look, “They are a type of flower.”

 

Ash laughs in disbelief. “Who comes up with these names?”

 

Eiji shrugs with a smile. “I don’t know.”

 

“Maybe I should switch them out for venus flytraps,” he jokes. “As payback for switching to champagne ribbons.”

 

Eiji blinks. He seems like he’s unsure if Ash is serious or not which only induces Ash’s smile to grow. “Oh, we only have Chomp...“ His voice falters near the end, and his face immediately goes red.

 

Ash’s brows furrow, “Chomp?”

 

“Nothing!” He manages to stammer, averting his eyes everywhere but Ash.

 

“Who’s Chomp?”

 

“No one!”

 

“You just said Chomp.”

 

“I did not!”

 

He notices Eiji’s big. brown eyes are staring off at one direction. Ash jerks his head over to find he’s looking at the display case where all their weird flowers are stored. More notably, where the venus flytrap Ash poked at the first time resides.

 

His eyes go round, suddenly having an aha moment. His lips curl up. _Too cute_.

 

“Is Chomp the venus flytrap?”

 

Eiji ducks his head, hands covering his eyes. Ash notices his ears have turned red too. He’s muttering something under his breath, but it’s too unintelligible for Ash to catch what he’s saying. Something along the lines of “Seems lonely...Needs name...Chomp good.” He’s embarrassed, his voice sounding breathless with every word he mumbles, and although Ash wants to tease him about it, he doesn’t.

 

He knocks at the top of Eiji’s head and waits for him to untangle his arms from his face. They do so reluctantly, but Eiji still has trouble meeting his gaze.

 

“I think Petey Piranha would’ve been more suitable, but Chomp is a good name too.”

 

The rouge-like color on Eiji’s cheeks begins fading. What remains is a subtle shade of pink which softly tugs at Ash’s heartstrings. Eiji’s flustered reaction kind of makes him feel bad for wanting to laugh after finding out his silly secret. Not in a demeaning way. He never wants to come off as demeaning, especially not to someone like Eiji.

 

“I like Petey Piranha,” he coyly agrees. “Maybe for the next one I will name it that.”

 

Ash’s gaze softens, “I’d love to come visit them. if you don’t mind.”

 

“Of course!” Eiji replies, a little too excitedly. He cringes back noticing how loud his voice came out, but Ash gives him a reassuring smile. “W-We usually update their growth on our Instagram page if you want to⸺if you are interested in seeing our other flowers.”

 

“Do they have names too?” Ash asks, genuinely curious.

 

Eiji simpers, “Some do.”

 

He nods, “I’ll be sure to check that out then.”

 

Eiji looks at him purely with joy like this is the first time anyone has ever shown honest interest in his world of flowers. That sparks some wistful sensation to attach itself onto a cranny of Ash’s heart. He wonders if he’s the first to listen, or maybe it’s Yut-Lung. As much as he despises him, he hopes Yut-Lung is a good friend to Eiji. Warmhearted people like Eiji deserve the bestest of friends.

 

When Ash’s phone glows notifying he received a message from Max (which he ignores) he notices it’s half-past the shop’s closing hour. His eyes widen, “ _Shit_. It’s late. I didn’t realize how long I kept you here.”

 

Eiji looks over his shoulder at the clock hanging above the cabinets. His gasp transforms to a breathy laugh, shutting the binder and sliding it back into one of the cabinet drawers. “Time got ahead of us,” he says while tidying up the mess he made earlier.

 

“Sorry,” Ash says sincerely. “How about I buy you an ice cream or something to repay you?”

 

Eiji stiffens mid-cleaning. For a second, Ash worries about the beat of silence that follows his words. He’s unsure if he said something wrong until Eiji finally straightens up.

 

Eiji nervously rustles a notebook between his hands. “You don’t have to,” he quietly replies.

 

“It’s fine,” Ash assures him. “There’s a convenience store two doors down from here. It’s no problem at all.”

 

Eiji pauses, seeming to think about it. He then nods with a small smile, “Okay.”

 

Ash waits for Eiji to finish putting everything in its place and lock the shop up before they head off. The walk is a short one, a minimum of two minutes, but somehow the crisp breeze of the evening touches Eiji’s cheeks, coloring them pink.

 

When they get there, Ash picks out a strawberry ice cream bar while Eiji chooses a mango one. It takes some convincing for Eiji to finally come around and allow Ash to pay for his ice cream bar, having to distract him by pointing out a dog standing outside the shop’s door, giving him enough time to slip in five dollars to the cashier.

 

“You should have let me pay…”

 

“No way! _I_ made _you_ stay past your time.”

 

They seat themselves on the brick planter surrounding the red oak tree. They spend thirty minutes scrolling through the flower shop’s Instagram page, Eiji showing him pictures of Chomp when they first got him. Ash points out Chomp looks like a bunch of weeds leading Eiji to go on the offensive, defending Chomp for being a late bloomer.

 

There are other pictures Eiji shows him too. Ash’s favorite is one with a big, golden lab sniffing at, what Eiji educates him are, Dog Roses. It’s ironic, and Ash laughs way harder than he should when he finds out their name. Eiji laughs along with him.

 

“These are great, Eiji,” he compliments as he scrolls down the page, liking each one with an animal or a funny caption. There’s another with a gang of cats sleeping beside one of the planters. Another favorite. “I don’t know shit about photography, but these are amazing.”

 

Eiji’s looks down and away. “Oh, well, um, I don't know about _amazing_ , but...thank you.”

 

“Are you studying photography?”

 

He nods, “It is my final year.” A wistful smile falls on his face, “It took a while, but I will finally graduate this year.”

 

Ash tilts his head, questioningly. He’s afraid to ask, worried it might be a touchy subject. Eiji, however, seems to sense his curiosity and continues.

 

“I took a two-year gap because,” he explains. His head is bowed, clenching and unclenching the empty ice cream wrapper in his hands. “I was...I was dealing with an injury and my father got sick at the same time. It was difficult to deal with both.” His voice breaks off near the end.

 

Ash feels like he should give Eiji a comforting pat on the back. One of those pats Max or Jessica would give him the first few nights he woke up with night terrors after being adopted. They were soft and loving and he thinks Eiji would appreciate it as much as he once did. Before he does so, Eiji looks at him with determination.

 

“But it is okay because I will finally graduate at 24!”

 

Ash’s eyes go round, “You’re 24?”

 

Eiji nods, looking proud of himself.

 

“You don’t look a day over 18,” he remarks with a smirk. “It doesn’t help that you’re short too.”

 

Eiji groans, “Not you too!”

 

Ash laughs, teasingly. He feels his phone vibrate a few times again. They're more messages from Max wondering where he is. He rolls his eyes when he notices one of them is a frenzied text about Ash running away because he wasn’t able to get the champagne ribbons. Like he would ever leave because of that.

 

He stands up stretching his arms out and tossing his trash in a nearby bin. “I should get going. My old man thinks I made a getaway from running his errands.”

 

Eiji jokingly grins, “He is on to you.”

 

Ash parrots his voice and mentally checks off another _great_ impersonation done. He even got the cutesy tone of Eiji’s voice down. He’s impressed with himself.

 

Eiji laughs, “That does not sound like me!”

 

“You’d be surprised,” he remarks with a quick tussle of Eiji’s hair. He’s not surprised by how soft it is. ”You should get home. The cold is really reddening up your face.”’

 

Eiji flinches. The cold really must be getting to him. “Y-Yeah, you are right,” he replies, head hanging. Ash picks up the minor shake between Eiji’s words. He sounds despondent, but he must be imagining it.

 

They say their goodbyes with Eiji promising that they'll notify Max about the time of delivery for the bouquets and centerpieces. Ash also promises he’ll come back and visit Chomp soon.

 

When he gets home, Ash is bombarded with anxious questions from Max about the champagne ribbons. He jokes around with him for a bit saying champagne was wiped from existence. Needless to say, Max isn’t amused.

 

He goes to lie down on the couch for a nap before dinner, but Michael comes in running and shoves a Sonic drawing in his hand, explaining he drew it for him while Skip colored it.

 

Today is a good fucking day to be a Glenreed.

* * *

 Eiji met the boy who hung the moon and the stars.

 

He’s overwhelmed with how perfect Ash seems to be. It’s almost blinding and that scares him. He recoils when he thinks about how foolish he is for exposing some itty bitty details about himself: how he’s friends with flowers and names them; how life was tough back in Izumo and that he’s 24 and graduating soon; how easy his emotions got to him while being around Ash. But those worries don’t stop the giddiness from creeping up on him. All he can think about now is how Ash bought him ice cream.

 

 _It was mango and it tasted_ great.

 

He giggles to himself, and he walks his normal route home with a smile on his face that doesn’t wear off even when he feels a short sting between his chest.

 

Eiji slaps his cheeks lightly before unlocking the door of his apartment. He doesn’t want Yut-Lung suspecting anything even if he wants to tell the whole world how great today was.

 

The moment he steps in, he is met with a Yut-Lung plastered on his couch with a facemask on, mid-chewing on a slice of pizza. From the half-empty box on the table, Eiji sees the logo of Sing’s workplace.

 

“You’re home late,” Yut-Lung notes, munching on another bite of a pizza slice. “Keep coming home late and you’ll never grow.”

 

Eiji rolls his eyes, muttering that it’s only seven o’clock. He slips out of his shoes and places them neatly on a rack beside the door. He clears his throat when it begins to itch. “I was handling the appointment that was _your_ job.”

 

“Did you handle it?” He asks through a mouthful while wiping his hands.

 

“Yes,” he replies. There’s a smile playing on his lips, “He was very kind.”

 

Yut-Lung looks at him, bewildered at first. Bewilderment then converts into disgust with his eyes squinting and nose screwing up. “Please don’t tell me this is becoming a thing.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You and Ash. You don’t like him do you?”

 

Eiji’s eyes go round and blush seeps into his face. His heart is racing which only enhances the pins and needles feeling within his chest. He clears his throat once more, “No! Of course not! Why would you think⸺”

 

Yut-Lung rolls his eyes, “It’s fine if you do. There’s nothing wrong with that. You just have horrible taste in men.”

 

For some obscure reason, Yut-Lung’s words calm the running nerves he is having. The giddiness from before comes back, rushing in this time, and he feels lively. He almost forgets how scary the world is.

 

“Let’s watch a movie. I need to tell you about my date,” Yut-Lung says, switching on his own laptop.

 

Eiji nods with a smile, “Let me just wash my face.”

 

He goes into his tiny bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. Eiji laughs softly to himself, still high on euphoria from today. He sucks in a breath then exhales, trying to compose the final remnants of a smile. Though the biting pain reaching out from his throat doesn’t allow a soothing breath to depart. Instead, the pain welcomes a whistling sound followed by harsh coughing. And it doesn’t stop until whatever is stuck between his throat escapes. When it does, it sits there in the porcelain sink, beckoning him.

 

A single, yellow petal innocently looks up at him like it belongs there.

 

Eiji stands there. Paralyzed, alone and shaking. He can hear Yut-Lung’s voice from afar, asking him something. He’s not exactly sure what; he’s not even sure if it’s actually him. His thoughts feel muddled and this might be part of his imagination, an ugly part of it he never really knew existed.

 

But he remembers reality and how the world isn’t just scary. Scary is a word kids use to describe fictional monsters hiding under their bed or watching horror movies late at night with all the lights off. Eiji remembers the world is more than scary. It’s _terrifying._ It’s vast and enigmatic. It can connect two people together then tear them apart until they become one.

 

He stands alone in a bathroom with walls that bounce off his echoing breath. Small and insignificant.

 

“Eiji?”

 

His head whips up to the direction of the voice. He sees Yut-Lung staring at him confused.

 

“Are you almost done?”

 

 _He cannot know_ is all that’s running through his head.

 

He nods, forcing a smile. “Yes. Give me a minute.”

 

Yut-Lung seems to hesitate for a moment, but nods and heads out. Eiji hurries, calming his quickening breath, ignoring the prickling sensation he feels at the corner of his eyes. He snatches the petal from the sink and slips it into his jacket pocket.

 

The world always finds a way to make him lonely.

 

 

That night, Eiji wakes up from a dream of the world drowning him in a sea of Spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess you gotta fall in love with someone that accepts you naming your plants. And what movie was YueSing watching? Probably Captain Marvel. It's great guys, definitely go see it!!
> 
> Also, I've completely finished outlining this so expect chapters every 7-14 days. Thank you for reading!


	5. hearts don't open up as easy as soda cans (but mine does)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mouse problem is still at large, Eiji basically has "conceal, don't feel, don't let them know" on repeat, and Eiji dreams about monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April Fools! You thought I would post in the time I told myself I would post, didn't ya? I kid. ANYWAYS, this took longer then I expected because I was getting my ass kicked by midterms, but they're finally over and I'm on spring break so I'm hoping to get the next chapter up earlier along with an asheiji one shot I've been working on. 
> 
> Honestly, I'm not very proud of this chapter. It was the chapter I was least looking forward to writing because it's that calm (but not really calm) before the storm type of chapter so I had to rewrite it twice and I'm still not satisfied with how it came out. But chapter 6 and forward :'))) can't wait to write those. Nonetheless, here you go!

Eiji wonders if his plants are out to get him too.

 

He ponders on the theory⸺sometimes visualizes it too⸺of his plants reaching the roof of his home and swooping down to gaze over him: cold and calculating. In the night, they become nightmares that only allow him winks of sleep until he wakes up in a cold sweat and leaves him gasping for air. Moments like these, when his mind is disordered with sleep and frightened with incoherence, makes him feel like he’s suffocating. But there’s a voice in his head⸺rationality, he supposes⸺that starts crying, _begging_ him to breathe.

 

So, he listens. And everything becomes crystal clear when he recognizes he isn’t being drifted away by flower petals. No, Eiji wasn’t suffocating⸺he was panicking. In a week since it started, Eiji is awakened by dreams and kept up by thoughts that won’t _shut up_ about the tiny monsters burrowing inside him and the “real” monsters growing around him.

 

Eiji considers letting his plants wither away. He even hesitates to grab the watering can, like there’s a glitch in his head warning him not to feed his monsters, whispering that they’ll grow and find a way to eat him alive too. Irrationality strains for control and sometimes Eiji lets it because taking back the wheel is easier said than done.

 

But then there’s Baby Sprout. And Mr. Root. And all his other plants working hard to thrive. Instead of the cold glare he imagines them giving him before, he sees a pleading look that bubbles guilt inside him. He can’t do that. Eiji can’t kill the plants he grew to love. He knows these musings are false and ridiculous, and he understands his plants can’t become monsters.

 

Maybe, he stews, _he’s_ the real monster for even thinking about letting them die.

 

It’s an utterly and unbelievably painful thought to ruminate on. More painful than the sting of the petals trying to escape and more annoying than the ticklish sensation of them sleeping among his lungs. But he can handle them brushing against his chest and he can handle the biting pain that lasts for mere seconds, yet Eiji can’t seem to handle the mean words he hurls at himself subconsciously. It’s these types of thoughts which carry him into unfriendly nooks of his mind that loathe him.

 

The voice⸺ _his_ voice, maybe⸺calls him a fool for catching feelings on a boy who politely bought him mango ice cream while he was too distracted gazing at a dog wagging his tail at the entrance of the convenience store. Sometimes, in those spare moments of sleep, he dreams about this not-so-long-ago memory and a warmth settles inside him. Like there’s no terrifying notions repeating itself like a mantra in his head. Like there’s nothing nestling inside his lungs.

 

But the calla lilies he spits out serve as a harsh reminder.

 

Eiji discovers what they are after coughing up a handful of them by the middle of the week. They’re yellow and rubbery and he fits the pieces together like a puzzle. It resembles a trumpet, like the ones in fairytales that announce the entrance of someone important. Someone like a prince. Maybe Ash is a prince, he thinks, and the idea amuses him. He believes they suit Ash perfectly. Their meaning even more, because gratitude is all he felt that Saturday evening when the universe was finally giving him a chance to breathe.

 

If only cognizance wouldn’t dawn on him so quickly in the form of spluttering out his pain into a porcelain sink. His resolve crumbles to a frown and a choked-out sob which he covers up with his hand.

 

He doesn’t let himself cry though.

 

Crying makes his eyes puffy and red and he’s afraid it will give him away. Rather, he buries his petals somewhere at the bottom of his sock drawer and holds back his coughing as much as he can. He tries holding his breath; he tries drowning them in water in hopes they will die; he tries not thinking about the _stupid_ mango ice cream. Eiji tries anything and everything to keep this a secret.

 

But it proves to be difficult because...Yut-Lung _still_ hasn’t gone home.

 

“You can’t keep putting me on hold, Doris!” Yut-Lung yells through his phone. Eiji notices it’s a new one. “That’s not even on-hold music! You’re not tricking anyone. I can tell you’re putting your phone against a radio!”

 

Eiji sits at the dining table with his arms folded and his head resting on them while he listens in to Yut-Lung’s ordeal for the past thirty minutes. He nods off every few seconds Yut-Lung gets put on hold. He’s so tired and listless nowadays; he momentarily regrets ever listening to the scary voice in his head. Because sleeping means drowning in petals, is what the voice tells him, and he can’t ignore its admonition.

 

To wake himself up, Eiji picks off a petal from Mrs. Bloom’s branch and pinches it between his fingers. Although he only waters her every once in a while, Mrs. Bloom’s petals remain as vibrant as ever. They somewhat resemble the ones hiding at the bottom of his drawer⸺at least the color does. For some reason, that simple detail makes him feel nauseous. The color yellow shouldn’t be foreboding.

 

“You would not kill me, right, Mrs. Bloom?”

 

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Eiji sees her branches lightly quiver. Kind of like a shaking head.

 

“Are you talking to your plants again?”

 

Eiji peers at Yut-Lung slightly miffed. He has a hand over his phone like he's prepared to muffle the potential argument Eiji plans to stir up. But Eiji’s too tired to start any of that, so all he gives him is an absent “no.”

 

Yut-Lung raises a brow and frowns. “What is up with you?”

 

Eiji immediately stiffens, sitting up in his seat with the yellow orchid petal still in hand. “Nothing.”

 

Yut-Lung doesn’t seem to buy it if his lingering gaze doesn’t give it away. He has to get better at hiding this. Yut-Lung has been eyeing him the entire week after one particular coughing fit leaves Eiji scurrying into the backroom to release the petal stuck between his throat. Yut-Lung seemed ready to say something, and a small part of Eiji hoped he would, but Sing arrived with a pizza in the nick of time leaving Eiji with a bottomless feeling inside.

 

The same happens today. Yut-Lung’s mouth opens to speak like he’s prepared to badger him but abruptly shuts when his landlady comes back on the line. The bottomless feeling returns too and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

 

“You’re staying for _another_ week?” Yut-Lung exclaims. His fingers clench tightly around the phone. It looks like it’ll break at any moment. “What am I supposed to do then, Doris? I can’t just let it make its nest in my apartment!”

 

Eiji hears the woman’s muffled voice through the phone. Whatever she says causes the hold on Yut-Lung’s phone to relax. The scowl he has is now replaced with a frown. Bleary confusion takes over Eiji’s features.

 

Yut-Lung sighs. “Fine. I’ll just set up a trap or something before it destroys everything,” he says, sounding defeated. “I wish your mother well. Have a nice break.” He hangs up and yawns; stretching out his legs in front of him before he stands up from the air mattress and walks over to the dining room.

 

Yut-Lung softly slaps the back of Eiji’s head, jolting him from the doze he was falling into. “Get up. We’re going on a field trip before work.”

 

Eiji rubs his fist against his eyes and watches Yut-Lung take his backpack off the dining table. His hands fall on his hips as he waits for Eiji by the door.

 

“Where are we going?” Eiji asks, reluctantly standing up and pushing in his chair. He carries his coffee mug to the kitchen sink before gathering his own things.

 

He taps his foot, resting a hand on the doorknob. “My apartment. We’re setting up a trap before the mouse makes my home its empire.”

 

Eiji shrinks back. His legs feel like jello and his mind is groggy. He won’t be able to defend himself from a mouse when he’s in this condition. In fact, Eiji wouldn’t be able to defend himself from a mouse in any condition.

 

“Why don’t you go alone while I wait for you at the shop?” he stammers. He hopes Yut-Lung doesn’t pick up the tremulous sound of his voice. He has petals growing inside him; he can’t be afraid of some mouse.

 

A worried frown etches itself on Yut-Lung’s face. “No,” he whines. “I need you there for moral support. I can’t do this alone.”

 

“I think you can do it alone, Yue.”

 

“No, Eiji. You’re coming.”

* * *

They settle on buying a pack of humane mouse traps and placing tiny cubes of cheddar cheese inside them to lure the mouse in.

 

Eiji drums his fingers against the green plastic of the trap; Yut-Lung does the same. The plan is simple: step into the apartment, slide the traps around the place, then run the fuck out. But the fact of the matter is: neither of the two can even get past step _one_.

 

“You go in.”

 

“This is your home, Yue. _You_ go first.”

 

“It’s common courtesy that, as a guest in my home, _you_ enter first.”

 

Eiji really doesn’t want to. His head is throbbing with a dull ache and his throat starts prickling again. He really wants sleep, not to be chased around by some anarchic mouse.

 

Eiji rocks on his foot from side to side in front of the door. He presses his lips together and holds the mouse trap closer to his chest. He hums, “Okay.”

 

Yut-Lung glances up at him. “You’ll go in?”

 

“We will _both_ go in.” Eiji sees he’s about to protest, but cuts him off, “At the same time.”

 

Yut-Lung pinches the bridge of his nose with his unoccupied hand and shuts his eyes. He takes in a deep breath then exhales. “Do you think it destroyed everything?”

 

Eiji gives him a breathy laugh. “I do not think so.”  

 

He blows a raspberry. “It better not have.”

 

A few minutes of hesitation and sharing of encouraging words to each other later, they manage to push the door open following a creak that echoes through the hallway of the floor.

 

Eiji doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Maybe a small fire starting in the kitchen or holes in the walls like they show in those early morning cartoons. Or maybe he expects a giant nest of mice reading up on books on the high bookshelves rounding Yut-Lung’s living room, acquiring knowledge for their empire. All these expectations make him realize one thing: Eiji _really_ needs to take a nap.

 

Instead, it’s oddly quiet. There’s no skittering or scattering; no squeaking or scratching. There’s only radio silence that fills Yut-Lung’s neat and elegant home, similar to how Eiji remembers it being the one time he came over for their photography project. The mouse doesn’t even seem present; nothing like what Yut-Lung described the first night he suddenly arrived at Eiji’s apartment.

 

“Maybe we can put one behind the couch?” Yut-Lung whispers. He’s standing on top of his coffee table, surveying the area around him. “I heard it running around back there right before I left.”

 

Eiji, who stands on one of the couch cushions, cranes his neck towards the side. He peeks through the crevice between the wall and the couch finding nothing there. With a swift hand, Eiji slides one of the traps between the division, the plastic scraping against the wooden floor.  

 

He straightens his back and stands up to see Yut-Lung observing him. “One down,” Eiji announces.

 

They spend the next couple of minutes bounding from one piece of furniture to another, scared that having any contact with the ground would mean they would run into the mouse. Yut-Lung’s constant gasping doesn’t help seize Eiji’s paranoia.

 

When he does it for the umpteenth time, Eiji glares at him after he almost slips off the chair he’s standing on. Yut-Lung bites his lip, “Sorry. I thought I heard it this time.”

 

Eiji shakes his head and lets out a weary chuckle. “We have to hurry. The shop opens at nine.”

 

The traps get set near every nook and cranny where the mouse leaves evidence of its presence. They high-five each other when the job gets done and start idly leaping back to the entrance of the apartment. Nevertheless, their jumps hasten the second they hear the soft skittering of feet against the wood tracking them from behind.

 

The mouse, unfortunately, does an excellent job of keeping everyone out of its new home.

 

Yut-Lung hurriedly locks the door of his apartment, quietly cursing the mouse under his breath, before they start their route to work. Although it’s Spring, the mornings remain quite chilly. The cool breeze makes the itch in Eiji’s throat become prominent, threatening the petals to escape the caverns of his lungs. Though, Eiji holds his breath, hoping they will stay buried inside until he gets to the shop.

 

 _Just a little while longer_.

 

He hates it. He really hates the itchy sensation and the tinge of fire that follows after he tries swallowing back the fleeting petals. But Eiji was right⸺it does feel like spitting out scorching coffee. Though scorching might be an exaggeration. It’s more like regurgitating something utterly bitter. Regardless, it’s gross and something he keeps to himself yet keeping it to himself brings in a whole other wave of loneliness and regret.

 

...and he’s always left wondering when the waves will stop crashing.

 

Yut-Lung’s rapid grip on Eiji’s wrist pops the bubble of his musings. He flinches, glimpsing back at Yut-Lung’s inflamed eyes.

 

“The light is green! What the hell are you doing?” He scolds, pulling Eiji further into the sidewalk.

 

He blinks. The sudden sounds of the city flood his ears; cars honking and engines revving all welcome him back from his reverie.

 

“You need to wake up,” he rails, snapping his fingers in his face. “You could have gotten yourself killed! This is like the second time in a week!”

 

Eiji shrinks back. The urge to say something lies stuck somewhere between his throat. Stuck with the yellow petals and the sharp pain that’s squished in the space between the two.

 

He chooses to nod instead, but it’s not a response that Yut-Lung likes, evident by the scowl on his face. He links his arm with Eiji’s and uses his empty hand to pinch his bicep.

 

“ _Ow!_ ” Eiji winces. “What was that for?”

 

“To wake you up, dumbass,” he says nonchalantly. “I can’t have you getting yourself killed so early in the morning. We have things to do!”

 

When the crossing light beams, Yut-Lung drags Eiji along the crosswalk and doesn’t loosen his grip the entire way to the flower shop. Besides the chiding he receives the whole walk there, Eiji can’t help but feel fairly grateful. Despite how tired he has been for most of the week, today is the most troubling as his adverse thinking holds up a bigger and bigger role with each passing day the petals descend into his lungs. Had it not been for Yut-Lung, Eiji would probably have his face planted in concrete by now.

 

There’s a customer already waiting for them by the door when they arrive: an elderly man, who is a regular who picks up red carnations for his wife each Saturday morning. While Yut-Lung wraps the flowers up for him, Eiji heads to the backroom to drop their things off and find his apron. He searches through all the mess that has piled up from the week. It mostly consists of empty boxes Yut-Lung forgets to throw out, or bits and pieces of stems that are strewn across the tiled floors. For what it’s worth, the coolers where they keep the extra stock of flowers are all organized. Overall, the backroom isn’t a _complete_ mess.

 

Eiji finds his apron by one of the shelves where the mason jars are kept⸺the ones with the (now) champagne ribbons on them. He brushes his fingers against the rough texture of the ribbon and smiles. He’ll have to see Ash again when they deliver the centerpieces to the banquet hall tomorrow. There’s an unsettling feeling that bites at his heart. A feeling that craves to see him, but also fears he’ll grow sicker if he just steps too close.

 

In the week since it happened, Eiji sometimes considers that it’s okay. It’s okay if the petals make his lungs their home; it’s okay if there comes a time where his breath is cut short. It’s all okay because, for a single moment, Eiji was happy laughing freely and genuinely with someone over something as simple as plants. Someone who even offered to visit Chomp.

 

Maybe that’s when it all started. He did feel the itch between his throat at that moment.

 

The thoughts are right: he _is_ foolish. He fell too easily and he’s now paying the consequences for it.

 

“Eiji!”

 

He hastily wraps the strings of his apron around his neck and waist, teetering out of the room after Yut-Lung calls him once more. He’s sitting behind the counter like he usually is except this time he’s not on his phone. There’s a whiteboard in his hand along with different color markers scattered across the flat surface.

 

“You called me?”

 

Yut-Lung nods with a hum. He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s trying to draw on the whiteboard. “I need you to set up the outdoor display. We need to get rid of the few daffodils we have in the back.”

 

Eiji narrows his eyes. He tries to peek over at the doodle on the whiteboard, but Yut-Lung shoves the board closer to himself and shields it with his arms. “But you always complain I do it wrong,” Eiji pouts.

 

He opens the cap of a yellow marker with his teeth and starts scribbling. “Just give it some pizzazz and you’ll do fine.”

 

“ _Pizzazz_ ,” he mumbles under his breath. That stupid word again. “What are you trying to draw anyway?”

 

Yut-Lung turns to the side and draws his knees up, resting the board on his thighs. “I’m trying to make a sign.”

 

Eiji tilts his head, “A sign for what?”

 

Yut-Lung pushes Eiji’s shoulder aside when he tries to take a peek again. “Stop trying to look! You’ll see it when I’m done.”

 

“All I saw was a bunch of yellow scribbles.”

 

Yut-Lung rolls his eyes. He opens up a green marker and starts drawing what Eiji presumes are circles. “Wow, okay Eiji, _rude_. I know I’m not van Gogh, but you could at least _wait_ until I finish before you start insulting my art.”

 

Eiji shakes his head with a smile. “I am sorry, Yue. It is probably a lovely picture.”

 

He sighs, a smirk playing on his lips. “I have too many talents. It’s honestly so hard to keep up with them all.”

 

Eiji presses his lips together and clicks his tongue. “I take it back. It is probably terrible.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” he retorts. The marker squeaks as Yut-Lung finishes the final touches of his drawing. He turns it around and Eiji...is more than confused.

 

“What is that?”

 

Yut-Lung peers over the board like he’s checking to see if they’re looking at the same picture. “My sign” is all he says.

 

“But what is on it?”

 

“My drawing.”

 

Eiji presses his hands against his temple, attempting to massage away the throbbing pain. He tries shifting his head and squinting, but nothing helps decipher what Yut-Lung was trying to draw. “Of?”

 

“You know who,” he replies ominously.

 

“I do not think I do.”

 

“If I say his name it’ll probably summon him. He’s _actually_ the devil, Eiji.” Yut-Lung points to the two red triangles on top of a circle surrounded by yellow scribbles, “See?”  

 

He doesn’t see until he leans his head closer to the board and picks out some of the details that point to it’s Ash. The yellow squiggles are his hair; the green circles, his eyes; and the bubble letters asserting “No Shitheads Allowed” surrounding doodle-Ash is the dead giveaway.

 

Eiji smiles fondly. He ignores the ache within the walls of his chest. All Eiji has done this week is worry about the petals. If they’re going to live inside his lungs, he’s going to do his best to at least enjoy some things. He won’t let every little moment of happiness be corrupted by them.

 

“I knew you would like it,” Yut-Lung snorts. “Anyway, go set up the daffodils. I’m going to clean the backroom before the mess builds up.”

 

Eiji nods. He returns to the back and takes out the last remaining daffodils from the cooler and places them on a utility cart. They’re yellow too. The color makes the throbbing in his head grow. He hears the quiet pounding in his ears and the sound is enough for him to feel light-headed. He threads his fingers in his hair and pulls when the ache pulses louder. He shakes his head, hoping it will alleviate the pain, but it only prompts the world to spin.  

 

He rests his hands on the utility cart, head lowered. He feels as if he’s slowly falling apart, as if all his stitches and threads are being yanked away, destroying his existence. Not now though. He has work to do. Work will help distract him.

 

Eiji drags the large, wooden display wagon out from the corner of a wall, pulling it behind him from the handle while he pushes the utility cart in front of him. They rumble as they move, sometimes crashing into the wall when Eiji missteps in his wobbling step.

 

Yut-Lung flinches away when Eiji pops up from the backroom. He quickly goes to grab the wagon when Eiji almost crashes into the ornament display. _Almost._ He caught himself before he did.

 

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

 

Eiji cranes his neck to look back, “What?”

 

“Are you not sleeping? You keep swaying.”

 

He should tell him. He should _really_ tell someone about the scary thoughts, the dreams, the petals that are slowly consuming him. Would Yut-Lung even understand? His feelings on Ash are anything but positive. Telling him might mean getting the petals removed, and removing them would destroy that kind memory. He doesn’t want to be alone again...

 

He should at least say something about the nightmares. That would be a good place to start.

 

“I, um, I have been having some bad dreams, lately,” he begins. “They...keep me up a lot.”

 

Yut-Lung plays with a string of his hair while maintaining eye contact. There’s a questionable glint in his eye that makes Eiji feel slightly queasy. Like he might know there is more to the story he’s telling.

 

“Really? Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

Eiji shrugs, looking down at the wagon’s handle to avoid his gaze. “It did not seem too serious is all.”

 

Yut-Lung’s stare remains long and attentive on him. Eiji feels like shrinking back. He knows Yut-Lung can tell when he’s lying. His past attempts always ended in failure, especially since Yut-Lung is persistent enough that he always gets Eiji to crack in a mere two minutes.

 

He won’t today though. And it’s not because he’s successful at keeping it all a secret. It’s because Yut-Lung doesn’t push for more like he usually does.

 

He hums, “If you say so.”

 

His hold on the handle falls when he feels Yut-Lung easily take it from his hand and haul it outside. Eiji watches him dismally. The bottomless feeling is back again. His warring mind is never satisfied. He wants to say something, but his tongue gets tied back and his words are trapped with it and he’s left with the worst sinking feeling of regret. It’s like trying to fall asleep all over again, but he _can’t_ because there are monsters inside of him⸺monsters that are trying to escape.

 

Yut-Lung ends up helping him set up the pots and ornaments along the display when Eiji almost falls on his face for the third time today. He snickers at him, rubbing a flower against Eiji’s nose claiming the smell will help wake him up.

 

It doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop Yut-Lung from shoving whichever abandoned flowers he can find into Eiji’s face. And for some reason, Ash always seems to walk in on them when they’re in these predicaments.

 

Eiji’s heart nearly stops when he hears the voice through the bundle of acacias stuffed in his face. The tiny trumpets in his lungs declare his arrival, he thinks that’s how he first realizes it’s him. They swirled inside before he spoke and it bruises something within. Maybe his heart? No, it can’t be. It must be his throat since he feels it prickle and the itch stems tears to his eyes.

 

He's sick all over again.

 

“Every time I’m here, you’re always bothering Eiji.”

 

Yut-Lung scowls when he hears the voice too. “Why are you here again?” he hisses as he accidentally shoves the dying bouquet of acacias into Eiji’s agape mouth. Eiji quickly goes to spit them out in a trash can. He can feel one stuck near the end of his tongue, urging him to cough it out. But the itch in his throat is still there and he’s too afraid it will bring the others out. He swallows it down.

 

 _Damn it, Yut-Lung_.

 

“I even made a sign. It specifically says you’re not allowed inside!”

 

Ash raises a brow, “What sign?”

 

He scurries to get the board placed near the chrysanthemums. It had sunk into one of the purple bunches. Yut-Lung shakes off the petals fallen on top of it and walks back to Ash, pushing it into his hands with a tight-lipped smile.

 

Ash squints, bringing it closer to his face. Eiji wants to laugh when he sees him pull out his glasses from one of the side pockets of his backpack. Yet he can’t. There’s this itty bitty whisper in the cold nook of his mind, jarring him.

 

Yut-Lung puffs out his cheeks then groans. “It says ‘no shitheads allowed’ so get out!”

 

Ash frowns, tilting his head innocently. “All I want is to check in on the centerpieces for my dad’s wedding,” he mockingly expresses. "He has been bothering me _all day_ about it." His eyes are downcast and Eiji sees he’s trying to fight the tug at the corner of his lips. Eiji allows the edge of his lip to quirk up this time, causing Ash’s false dejected eyes to shift towards him from the slight movement. Eiji feels his face heat up and everything in his chest whirls inside.

 

“Well, what a shame,” Yut-Lung taunts. “Eiji and I are about to go on our lunch break so I guess it will have to wait till later.”

 

Eiji clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. The butterfly feeling is there, burrowing itself deep down inside like the petals hushed within his lungs. He wants _that_ feeling to stay, not the one threatening his life 24/7 since it started. He doesn’t like being afraid, and he most certainly doesn’t like being afraid and having to endure it all alone. Because bottling it all in instigates his flight mode and that leads him to do stupid things⸺like leaving Izumo. Leaving Izumo had been a result of just that: fear and loss. Eiji really, really misses home.  

 

It might be the lack of sleep fogging over his head that makes him want to choose fight mode for once. The thoughts and that _stupid_ nook start whispering louder, telling him not to. Flight is all he knew; fight is just a flight of fancy.

 

“I...I can stay for a while,” he pipes up. He feels stupid, the voice in his head agrees. The tickle at the back of his throat agrees. The petal attempting to glide up his windpipe agrees.

 

He swallows it down once more.

 

“I can stay,” he repeats with vigor. “It should not take too long.”

 

Yut-Lung’s brows crease and his hands fall on his hips. “You’ve been staggering all day. No way am I going to let you skip lunch.”

 

Eiji rubs the back of his neck. “I am fine, don’t worry. I will eat something, I promise.”

 

Yut-Lung’s eyes narrow. He gives him that look again. The one that implies he’s not buying it.

 

“I’ll buy him something.”

 

They both turn to the third voice. The one that makes Eiji’s heart do flips.

 

“I’m making him stay again so I might as well buy him something,” he explains. “Common courtesy, y’know?”

 

Eiji shakes his head, “You don’t have t⸺”

 

“⸺I didn’t think you’d know that exists,” Yut-Lung quips. “I guess I’ll go see Sing then. Can’t stand seeing your face for too long,” he grumbles as he makes his way to the exit. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes, Eiji. You better be completely awake by the time I get back!” The bell jingles behind him after it shuts, leaving the two alone once more.

 

The feeling of wanting Yut-Lung to come back is an odd one.

 

“Are you tired?”

 

He turns toward Ash, blinking perplexedly. “Hm?”

 

Ash pokes a finger below Eiji’s right eye provoking a wince from him. “You have dark circles,” he points out. “They weren’t there last time I saw you.”

 

A budding warmth forms inside Eiji’s chest. His words feel kind⸺and probably mean nothing⸺but his heart swells nonetheless.

 

“I...am having trouble sleeping,” he shares. “It is no big deal.”

 

“I mean...your snake of a friend seems pretty concerned so it must be something.”

 

Eiji gives a shaky laugh at the nickname. A small smile pulls lightly at the corner of his lips. His gaze lowers to the ground. _Just nightmares_ , he tells himself. _Only talk about the nightmares._

 

“Bad dreams,” he hums hesitantly, “But really! They are no big deal.” If he repeats it enough, he’s sure he’ll believe it himself too. Bad dreams and thoughts can’t hurt him if he doesn’t let them. The petals on the other hand…

 

“Maybe I can help?” he suggests. “I used to get nightmares when I was in a uh...shitty...part of my life. It really sucks to deal with them.”

 

Eiji notices the wistful smile that forms on Ash’s features. It’s similar to the one he had the first time he came to the shop⸺the one for a friend he bought white daisies for because they looked like Pikmin. It must be nice being given flowers instead of feeling them slowly drift him away...

 

The petals shift a little inside. They remind him again of how painful this is; how hard things will start becoming because they _exist_. They will forever exist until _he_ stops existing.

 

His head feels fuzzy like there’s static. He knows he can’t run from everything. Not again.

 

“Okay.”

 

Ash’s wistful smile transforms into a cheeky grin. “Let’s get some food first. That should wake you up.”

* * *

They decide on sandwiches from the donut shop by the convenience store, seating themselves on the stool seats by the front window. Eiji manages to pay for himself and not get distracted by a dog this time, mentally patting himself on the back for not falling for that trick twice when Ash tackles it again.

 

“It was a cute bulldog too. It was sniffing at one of the flower beds outside.”

 

“Nice try, but I will never ever fall for the same trick again.”

 

“Never ever?”

 

“Never ever.”

 

They take a few bites of their sandwiches here and there while they discuss over the completed changes of the centerpieces along with the arrival time for them to be delivered tomorrow at the reception. Ash grumbles about how busy he's been with the week dealing with all his father’s errands for the wedding which is why he hasn’t been able to visit Chomp. He impersonates his father’s voice a few times, stirring a soft laugh from Eiji once in a while. Sometimes, Eiji has to hide his laugh behind his hand when he senses the beginning of what feels like flames in his lungs. He gulps down orange juice hoping the petals trying to glide up will be drowned down.

 

“So...about your dreams. Did they just start?”

 

Eiji slightly recoils. Right, _that._  He has to talk about _that_. “Um, yes. They are recent.”

 

Ash hums, taking a quick sip from his soda can. “What are they about?”

 

Eiji toys with the orange juice bottle in his quivering hands to avoid looking at Ash. Looking up at green eyes might make the calla lily petals want to peek out.

 

“It is stupid,” he begins hesitantly. From the corner of his eye, Eiji sees Ash giving him a reassuring nod, encouraging him to continue. “But...monsters,” he confides. “They're dreams about monsters.”

 

Ash lets out a faint chuckle. “No, that’s not stupid. I get it.”

 

“You do?”

 

He nods earnestly. “I had similar dreams too. Right after my mother passed away.”

 

Eiji’s finally gains the courage to gaze his eyes up to green ones, worried that looking down would come off disrespectful. His heart rattles. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It was a long time ago, don’t worry about it,” he says. His features are doleful. There’s a pensive smile that crosses his lips. “She…was always away from home so I didn’t really get to see her all the time,” he starts. “One night, I found out she was running off to see someone else after I heard my dad cursing her out on the phone, telling her not to come back home.”

 

Ash liberates a shaky breath, “And she never did.”

 

Eiji sits silently. He learns it’s not so hard to look up at Ash when he’s staring out through the window, somberly. In this moment, Eiji wishes he would look at him so _Ash_ doesn’t feel alone. How he wishes the petals would stop churning so Eiji could hold his hand, comfortingly.

 

“Griffin⸺my big brother⸺he tried looking for her,” he lets out a mirthless chuckle and shakes his head. “Because I wouldn’t stop crying about it.”

 

Eiji decides to speak up, ignoring the ache that follows. “Your brother seems kind.”

 

“Yeah...he was the best,” he replies with a faraway smile. Confusion clouds Eiji’s features when he realizes the past tense of Ash’s sentence. Ash realizes this and clears his throat, “He, um, he passed away in an accident a little while after.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Eiji mumbles weakly. “He still must have been a wonderful person.”

 

“He really was. He went through all that work even though,” he hears Ash gulp. “Even though a few weeks later...we got a call in the middle of the night about a woman they found dead inside a subway⸺they said she matched her description.”

 

Eiji feels a lump form between his throat. He can’t tell what it is. Whether it’s petals or a concealed sob, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that it hurts⸺stings a little even.

 

“My asshole of a father didn’t want to go identify her. It was like he wanted to wipe her out of existence,” he continues. “Griffin took me to see her anyway. But it really _sucked_ ⸺seeing her, I mean⸺because she ran away to be with someone else⸺because she was young and in love with some new person⸺but it was all for nothing...”

 

Eiji quietly clears his throat, but the tightness remains. “What do you mean?”

 

“She died from asphyxia. There were petals found clogging her throat.”

 

His throat begins to burn. There are monsters inside him and they’re growing, growing, _growing_. Sometimes, they grow in other people too and sometimes, he remembers hearing about people who pass away from the same monsters that are taking him away. Then…they all fall in stasis after slipping in the space in between all the coughing and all the pain that ultimately stops every ability to breathe.

 

And Eiji _can’t_ breathe.

 

“It’s all utter bullshit,” he says. Or Eiji thinks he says. There’s static in his ears and everything feels numb. “How drastic feelings tend to be.”

 

Eiji can’t hear him.

 

“Anyway,” Ash sighs, putting a hand on Eiji’s shoulder. He flinches and the static dies, but there’s still cotton in his ears. “When I got adopted by my current family, they would usually take me out on walks or wake me up five minutes before it happens since I usually got them at a specific time. It helped a lot. It really took my mind off things.”

 

Eiji nods absentmindedly. He attempts keeping eye contact, but that proves to be difficult when the burning sensation inside his chest is making his eyes water. He needs to leave. _He can’t breathe._

 

“Would you excuse me for a second?” He manages to croak out. “I have to use the restroom.”

 

Ash tilts his head confused. “Sure.”

 

Eiji precariously gets up from his seat, covering his mouth with the inside of his elbow. The moment he enters the bathroom, he falls on his knees in front of the toilet and hacks away the itch that finally wins. His lunch follows, leaving his whole body shaking and his forehead dewing with sweat.

 

He wipes the tears brewing at the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his pink cardigan. There’s black spots in his vision, a consequence from the lack of sleep and the raw pain that infects his throat and chest.

 

Eiji tries breathing. There’s a wheezing noise that wasn’t there before. It wasn’t this painful before either. His mind is swimming and the static is back.

 

There are monsters inside of him and they’re taking him away.

* * *

The mouse succeeds evading the trap the first day, meaning⸺Yut-Lung gets to stay _another_ night at Eiji’s apartment.

 

“I’m sleeping in here today” is all Yut-Lung says before collapsing on top of Eiji’s stomach, crushing the air out of him. He cries out softly, hoping Yut-Lung didn’t hear the wheeze emit from his throat.

 

He crawls to Eiji’s empty bedside, turning on his side to look at him. His face is shiny with all of the various skincare serums he puts on. Eiji slaps his hands over his eyes as he feels Yut-Lung pull the blanket up to both their chins. “Yue, why today? I am really tired today,” he whines.

 

He puffs out his cheeks, turning on his back. “You said you’re having nightmares, right?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“So…” he draws out. “I’m going to sleep here so you won’t be alone when you do.”

 

Everything was so arduous to process today. There’s still quiet buzzing in his ears and fluff in his head so maybe that is the root of his problem. He gets this sudden urge to cry because he’s been stuck in a room where he’s forced to fight every night with his belligerent thoughts all alone. And the moment someone offers to help him, he feels claustrophobic and more scared than ever.

 

He doesn’t want this to become a pattern of falling at the hands of the petals and the fear they bring. The fear that chews at every piece of him until he loses himself and everything.

 

Eiji decides to ignore them once more.

 

“Thank you, Yue.”

 

Yut-Lung nods with a friendly smirk then rolls over to shut the lamp off.

 

Eiji lays there listening to the rise and fall of Yut-Lung’s sleepy breathing for the next minutes...which become an hour...then hours of loud thinking.

 

His monsters are growing. He feels them. They’re huddling and wrestling to escape all at once until he loses every breath of air in just a blink of an eye.

 

 _It’s all utter bullshit...How drastic feelings tend to be_.

 

Maybe a walk will quiet them down. Besides, if he can’t sleep, he won’t let the petals sleep either.

 

 

Eiji learns he hates the night: when everything is quiet and hateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “'Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.'”
> 
> \- A.A Milne


	6. cavalries on rocking horses will never carry us far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something ominous about Mrs. Bloom. A wedding party occurs. Our friendly neighborhood Sing saves Yut-Lung from the mouse problem...and Yut-Lung tries to save someone too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH Sorry this is so late!! The Spring Break laze got the best of me and made me procrastinate on all my assignments. I wanted to get this up last weekend, but I've been in an internet outage since last week (still am) so I wasn't able to :( Now I'm just updating this with what remains of my phone data lmao 
> 
> Also, sorry about how long this chapter is. I just didn't know where to stop again. This was a pain to edit, but I hope it's not too bad!

Mrs. Bloom’s burgeoning branches begin to look like giant caterpillars.

 

They want to chew him up completely, he thinks. Eiji can’t really tell anymore. His walk last night could only do so much to calm the restless notions from swirling into full-blown panic. The monsters, the static, the white noise that follows when everything _kind of_ calms down; its broken his existence into fragments of coherence until those fragments get consumed by the beast hiding in those dark crannies of his mind.

 

They’re metamorphosing into something bigger; the calla lily petals and the intruding thoughts. The petals have become vocal through his thoughts too, and maybe that’s why Mrs. Bloom’s branches look like caterpillars now. Except…caterpillars can’t speak, but they can chew. And they eat at every bubble of air he manages to breathe in. Then, they morph into something beautiful.

 

Eiji wants to become something beautiful too, but he can’t.

 

He’s paying the price for playing the host

 

On his walk, he thought of every nameless person he remembers hearing about on the news.

 

Some of them died from the prettiest of flowers. He remembers one case of a woman who suffocated while driving herself to the hospital. Her petals were crocuses. Another was of an elderly man, a customer who frequented their shop, that died from eglantines. He had taken his last breath in his sleep.

 

There were too many stories recollecting in his head, all overwhelming what was supposed to be a peaceful walk. Especially when he recalls the “eglantine man” and how Yut-Lung had offered his family flowers free of charge. They were hesitant to accept, he remembers, feeling it was disrespectful to have such a blatant reminder decorating the funeral service. They had only decided to accept the offer last minute after realizing how important eglantines seemed to mean to the old man after finding a journal containing various caring tips for raising eglantines.

 

Around two in the morning, Eiji came back home and found her still branches, watching him. They’re never not scoping him out and it makes him sick.

 

Eiji _hates_ Mrs. Bloom. He finds that out on his walk when half of himself is thinking⸺the irrational half filled with supposed delusions. Though seeing her this morning and her glowering branches gets him thinking all of Eiji hates her too, and that this feeling might not be a consequence of delusions.

 

With careful hands, Eiji grabs Mrs. Bloom’s pot, stretching his arms out to keep the orchids from tickling his nose. He heads towards the cupboard in his kitchen and opens the bottom cabinet after setting the orchids beside him. There’s nothing but dust and a single cobweb stuck on one of the crevices. The space is somewhat small, but it should be enough for her to fit.

 

He gives Mrs. Bloom one last look, her branches quivering again, always staring.

 

He gently pushes her in, the branches emitting a hush crunch as they’re forced into a slouching position so they can fit into the cabinet completely. Eiji’s bottom lip trembles, forcing him to bite down on it hard.

 

No tears and no red, puffy eyes. Yut-Lung will figure him out.

 

Besides, they have boxes to pack, centerpieces to deliver,  _and_ a reception to attend. Sing invited Yut-Lung last minute as his plus-one⸺well, plus- _two_. Eiji overheard Yut-Lung earlier this morning conspiring with Sing over the phone about not wanting to leave Eiji alone while he’s facing a “troubling time.” He should feel marginally consoled Yut-Lung cares thatmuch about Eiji’s nightmares that he’s willing to let him third wheel his date, yet Eiji can’t help but recognize he was only invited out of pity.

 

He really is hitting rock bottom over and over again.

 

“What are you doing?” Still sitting criss-cross in front of the cupboard, Eiji maneuvers himself to peek to the side of the wall that blocks his view of the owner of the voice. He sees Yut-Lung pushing a bobby pin into his braid crown as he strolls towards him.

 

“I am looking at this cupboard,” Eiji replies quietly, gesturing to it.

 

Yut-Lung furrows his brows questioningly. “Okay...well, stop looking at your cupboard and go get dress. Sing is picking us up in fifteen minutes.”

 

“...I am dressed.”

 

Compared to Yut-Lung in his elegant, black fitted suit with a dragon cufflink pinned by each wrist, Eiji feels quite underdressed in his pink cardigan and black pants.

 

Yut-Lung inches closer, inspecting eyes peering down at Eiji. He hums, squatting in front of him to get a better look; though Yut-Lung’s piercing gaze doesn’t entirely meet his.

 

“Do you want me to cover them?”

 

Eiji flinches when slim fingers pat beneath his eyes, tapping around the dark circles.

 

“Your eyes are a little puffy too. Did you not sleep well again?”

 

Eiji’s focus shifts on the cupboard anew just as Yut-Lung makes actual eye contact with him for the first time in the midst of the dead air. The prickle in between his throat is back. It always comes back in the most inconvenient of times. Like last night, after he finally managed to hack up the ones he bottled in his lungs during his walk into some rancid trash can along with the last remaining bits of his dinner. Although it felt like it all had finally left his system (albeit leaving him kind of hungry), as soon as he stepped a foot into his apartment, the uncomfortable sensation within his lungs and throat swelled.

 

The petals seem to want Yut-Lung to find out. Of course, they would. They’re trumpets: loud and obnoxious and usually meant to announce or emphasize something important. But not today.

 

“I am okay,” he assures. Eiji gulps down the itch, the petals, and the truth. He spent the whole week keeping it all to himself, and he can spend as many more if he can just _gulp it all down_. He never was a good liar. This transformation into one hurts for some reason.

 

Yut-Lung frowns, his mouth falling open to press for more, but the ring of the doorbell pulls them apart from the argument Eiji knows Yut-Lung is stewing.

 

“That must be Sing,” Eiji says before getting up from the kitchen floor to answer the door. There’s a hint of an ache that develops as he rises. He ignores it.

 

There are things to do, he repeats. And if the world is still turning and he’s still breathing, despite the slight pain harboring inside him, he moves forward and he gulps all his troubles down.

 

 

Being the third wheel entails exactly what Eiji suspects when dealing with Sing and Yut-Lung. Eiji spent most of the short car ride to the flower shop listening and sighing to Yut-Lung’s attempts at complimenting Sing’s appearance which mainly resulted in backhanded compliments, leaving Sing spluttering with confused gratitude. It’s a talent how terrible Yut-Lung is with expressing himself, managing to confuse admiration with insult. But Sing isn’t any better at it either, delivering wrong comments that get Yut-Lung glowering.

 

“Did you just refer to my hair as a ‘pretzel?’”

 

“I meant I like how you tangled it⸺”

 

“ _Tangled it!_ ” Yut-Lung had scoffed. “This took so long to do and you’re saying it looks _tangled!”_

 

“I’m trying to say it looks nice! Like...like a pretzel⸺okay, this sounded much better in my head. You know what I meant!”

 

Seeing them⸺Sing opening Yut-Lung’s door when the rickety handle wouldn’t budge, Yut-Lung adjusting Sing’s wrinkled collar, the two giggling over dumb things they whisper to each other...it all sparks a twinge of a feeling Eiji doesn’t recognize at first until he feels the rawness in his throat from the cough he practice to hold back.

 

Jealousy is such a horrible, stupid, ugly feeling.

 

He shakes his head, quickening his pace of stuffing Baby’s Breath into mason jars while the other two water the flowers around the shop. When everything is set, they start loading up the boxes into the trunk of Sing’s car. The boxes aren’t so heavy, considering how small the centerpieces are, yet the slight strain on his arms turn them gelatinous. Eiji’s gasp rumbles out a low wheeze when he senses his arms give out and his eyes shut tight while he waits for the glass inside the box to crash and break.

 

“Careful!”

 

There is no crash and break. Instead, there’s Sing, clutching the almost fallen box tight against his chest and staring at Eiji with wide, examining eyes.

 

“Are you okay?” Sing exclaims, placing the box inside the trunk. “Shit. You scared me! You looked like you were about to crash your head right into the lid of the trunk.”

 

Eiji blinks, clearing the blurry spots spawning in his vision. His sight gradually becomes cloudless, helping him notice the meticulous look crossing Sing’s face. Eiji’s heart rate accelerates. Maybe he is still a terrible liar after all if hiding his fatigue proves harder than it seems. At least that’s one thing he doesn’t have to worry that’s changing about himself. The one piece that assembles him as him, even if it aims to sabotage his plan of keeping this all under wraps.

 

“It is okay.” He shakes his head when he realizes his wrong phrasing. “I mean, _I_ am okay.”

 

Sing quirks a brow, not hiding the doubt he has over Eiji’s answer. It’s fair, Eiji wouldn’t be convinced by his own answer either. Considering the dark circles and all. He’ll probably take up Yut-Lung’s offer of getting them covered.

 

“You can take a nap on the way there if you want?” He offers. “The drive isn’t too long, but it should be enough to ease some of the sleep off.”

 

If only sleep hadn’t been tainted by monsters and static and now, giant caterpillars; the offer would sound lovely.

 

“Okay,” he croaks out.

 

He doesn’t.

* * *

“Do I look weird?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _Ash._ ”

 

Ash slumps deeper into the car seat with his arms folded over his chest, peering to his side to see what game Michael is playing on his phone now. Currently, he’s fishing on _Animal Crossing_ and sighing every time he doesn’t catch a rare fish. Ash snickers, resting an elbow on Michael’s head while Michael concentrates on his game.

 

“Does my cast really make me look weird or are you just trying to hurt my feelings?” Max asks in a fretful voice.

 

Ash knew being left with the middle seat would never entail anything good. He should have sat in front with the driver, as awkward as it might be. Or gone with Jessica in their car, but that car was packed with her family. Now, he’s left squished, annoyed, and restless to get out the minute he got tricked into sitting in between Michael and Max.

 

Of course, Michael isn’t the problem. Michael at least plays silently on Ash’s phone for the thirty-minute ride to the banquet hall. _Max_ , on the other hand, is a whole different story.

 

Throughout the car ride, Max adjusts and disarranges his pant leg, the one surrounded by the cast, accidentally elbowing Ash’s abdomen every so often he goes to fix it, murmuring a “sorry” each time. Ash’s brow twitches in annoyance. The constant questioning about his appearance doesn’t help Ash bite back the irritation rising.

 

“It doesn’t look that bad, does it? Jessica didn’t say anything, but maybe she didn’t say anything to spare my feelings,” Max broods as he lightly tugs on his shitty champagne tie. “That’s why I need your opinion, Ash. Then again, I can’t tell if you’re lying to me either…”

 

Ash groans. He removes his elbow off of Michael’s head and runs both hands through his hair as he sinks deep into his seat. He can’t wait for this wedding to be over. There are naps and an avocado shrimp salad recipe waiting for him after all of this.

 

“You’ve asked me the same question like _ten times_ in the last fifteen minutes, and I told you the first five times that you look fine.”

 

“Which gives me a fifty-fifty answer,” Max points out. “As a fellow blonde, can’t you just tell me the truth?”

 

“First of all, you’re not blonde,” Ash retorts. “And second, I’m dying it black or something so I never have to hear you say that again.”

 

“Then I’ll just dye it black too.”

 

“You can’t pull it off.”

 

“Yes I can.”

 

Ash groans, blowing out his cheeks as he adjusts himself in his seat. “The old lady didn’t say anything because she obviously didn’t see a problem with how you look,” he concludes. “But if you’re asking for _my_ opinion,” Ash continues while a corner of his mouth curves upwards, “Well...I still stand that you walk like a fucking penguin.”

 

Max gingerly smacks the back of Ash’s head, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He frowns when he hears Michael soundlessly giggling behind Ash’s phone which only incites Ash to break out laughing too.

 

When the driver finally announces they’ve arrived at their destination, Max hurriedly opens his door and wobbles out the car, grumbling something about “his boys being bullies” under his breath. Ash rolls his eyes and follows Michael out the opposite door, thanking the driver on his way out.

 

They walk over to Max who’s tottering towards the entrance of the banquet hall. Ash places a hand on his shoulder to steady him after he almost trips on his own cast. He mumbles a “thank you” before the three of them enter.

 

The banquet hall is grand. There are vibrant lights dangling from wall to wall, a disco ball centered on the spacious dance floor. A few of Max and Jessica’s family and friends are seated at their assigned tables, eating appetizers from china plates.

 

Michael scurries off when he catches sight of Skip at the back of the hall, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he deflects tables to get to him. Ash chuckles. Like father, like son.

 

“There you are!”

 

The two direct their attention to the thrilling voice coming from the opposite side of the room. It’s Jessica dressed in her [ A-line gown ](https://70d1f83501d7e624b894-53d282187eea13d17c9069e91e3ede51.ssl.cf2.rackcdn.com/product-original-2855087-314917-1543978369-971138986a1904a626dcd9b61b0e9ca2.jpg) decorated with lace on top and a skirt which flares from the waist down. She looks stunning and Max is always near tears each time he sees her. Who would have known that fifteen years of marriage would do that to a person?

 

“I was getting worried the three of you wouldn’t show up on time,” she says with a note of relief. “We’ll have to greet our guests, Max.” Jessica takes his hand which colors Max’s face a dark rouge; nonetheless, a wide grin still plasters his face and Ash decides not to point out the hint of tears at the corner of Max’s eyes. Ash assumes it won’t kill him to be a decent human-being to Max for a day.

 

“Also, Ash? Sing is out in the hall near the snack table. You should join him and the others until Shorter arrives.”

 

Ash lifts a brow. “Others?” Before he can get an answer, Jessica is already making her way out the entrance with Max tagging along beside her. Who could ‘others’ be? All of Sing’s friend are his friends, but they had all received an invite beforehand. It’s not like Sing has other close friends besides…

 

Suddenly, like a pile of bricks, it hits him.

 

Sing’s plus-one.

 

Yut-Lung.

 

_Fucking Yut-Lung._

 

Ash briefly recalls Sing texting him during dinner the evening he had his first date with Yut-Lung. He also briefly remembers being half-asleep, an effect of his food coma, while acknowledging whatever question Sing was asking. _And,_ Ash also somewhat remembers Sing mentioning, not just bringing a plus-one, but mentioning a plus- _t_ _wo_ yesterday at game night. Ash can’t think of who the second person could be. Possibly Lao? Though why would Sing want to bring his brother to cockblock his date.

 

Ash heads out into the hall where the snack table is perched by the doorway. There are crackers and cheese, a chocolate fountain surrounded by various fruits, and other small pastries organized neatly in rows. Ash settles on taking a bowl of macarons, popping some in his mouth as he searches and finds Sing and Sing’s asshole-of-a-date near the bar.

 

He walks over to them, letting out an exaggerated sigh that catches both of their attention. Yut-Lung’s piercing eyes immediately zero into his taunting ones. Ash gives him a smirk. He’s in _Ash’s_ territory now.

 

“You’re two years too young to be by the bar, Sing,” Ash teases, snickering when he notices Sing bite back the pouting face threatening to form.

 

“I’m not drinking alcohol. I’m drinking juice!” Sing affirms as he takes a large swig from his plastic cup before slamming it down against the counter. “More please,” he politely insists. The bartender pours him another cup and Sing quickly goes to chug it down then tosses the cup into the trash can.

 

“You shouldn’t drink too much of that,” Yut-Lung warns. “You’ll get sick like Eiji.”

 

Ash perks up at the mention of Eiji’s name. His eyes wander discreetly around the room. He wonders if Eiji has had any nightmares overnight. They must have been vivid ones considering how troubled Eiji seemed when they went out for lunch yesterday.

 

“Ah! There he is.”

 

Ash looks over his shoulder to see where Yut-Lung is gesturing. It’s Eiji, pushing close the restroom door with his hip. His mouth is covered by his hands like he’s yawning. His eyes are downcast and languid; however, they go big when they reach Ash’s.

 

Ash welcomes him with a smile and raises a hand in greeting as Eiji slowly makes his way over to them and goes to stand by Yut-Lung.

 

“So _you’re_ the plus-two,” Ash grins while Eiji balances himself by resting a palm against the counter. His face is more colored compared to his pale complexion yesterday and the dark rings under his eyes look like they were never there, but a tiny crease near the side of his left eye gives away they’re being covered. He doesn’t say anything.

 

Eiji nods, “I hope I am not a bother. Yut-Lung was being very pushy that I come.” That earns him a nudge from snake-incarnate that slightly teeters him. Eiji balances himself anew.

 

Ash chuckles. “Not at all, but I wouldn’t say the same for someone else,” he jokes as he not-so discreetly looks over at Yut-Lung.

 

Yut-Lung grits his teeth, “If I can handle your shit of a personality at my shop, I’m sure you won’t mind my presence for just a few hours. I _did_ help set up the centerpieces.”

 

“But isn’t that your job?”

 

“Yeah, but dealing with you isn’t.”

 

“What’s there to deal with? I’m a great customer.”

 

Yut-Lung narrows his eyes, snatching up Sing’s hand in his own; the action almost causing Sing to spill his new cup of juice over his navy blue coat.

 

“Come, Sing. Talking to this asshole is stressing me out. Let’s go get something to eat that isn’t juice.” Yut-Lung gives Eiji a departing smile and a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. “Text me if he bores you. I’ll make up some excuse so he’ll leave you alone,” he whispers in a not-so subtle way before he exits.

 

Piece of shit. Ash guesses he deserves it. Whatever. His parents’ wedding, his freedom to talk shit. He at least deserves that for putting up with all the errand running Max handed him.

 

“You are not boring.”

 

Ash hums in question, staring down at Eiji with puzzled eyes. “What?”

 

“Yue said to text him if you are boring me,” he repeats. There’s a light pink highlighting his cheeks. Possibly a cause of the juice or whatever Eiji was drinking. “But I don’t think you are boring at all.”

 

“Hm. Is that so?” Ash ponders as he taps his index finger against his lip. “I guess I am pretty riveting, aren’t I?”

 

A tiny smile curves at the edges of Eiji’s lips. It surfaces somewhat forced. Sort of sad in a way Ash can’t pinpoint exactly. He wonders why.

 

“You are starting to sound like Yue. He always says things like that,” he replies.

 

There’s something odd about his voice too. Something Ash realized yesterday. There’s a croaky sound to it, almost unnoticeable if Eiji speaks a few words, but it’s present and Ash wonders if he has a cold. He did appear ill yesterday. Or maybe it’s the juice, who knows.

 

“Hell no. I’m nothing like him.”

 

Eiji chuckles softly behind his hand. “I guess not. When I was redoing the ribbons during the week, he mentioned he really likes champagne.”

 

“Are you kidding me?”

 

Eiji shakes his head, smiling.

 

Ash rubs his face in discontent. “Of course. Of fucking course, he would like champagne. I don’t expect any less.”

 

“It seems like you are losing.”

 

Ash looks up from his hands and quirks a brow. “Losing what?”

 

“This battle against champagne. A lot of people like champagne.”

 

He scoffs, “Yeah, maybe people with no taste and the elderly.”

 

Eiji laughs a laugh that isn’t forced this time. His smile is now genuine too. There’s something sweet about the sound of Eiji’s voice when he laughs and when he speaks, despite the minor croak that wants to infect it. But it fails to do so because Ash feels the same radiance drawing out from Eiji like the day he had gone to the flower shop to replace Jessica’s vase.  

 

Eiji is kind of like the sun: shining and warm. The sun can hurt though if he has learned anything from his past, and Ash has heard people talk about others they like and comparing them to a warm and sunny, spring day. Eiji is all of those things which sometimes makes Ash wonder if he has ever had a cloudy day. Because those are the best words Ash can use to describe himself: a gloomy, lazy, cloudy day.

 

Those happen sometimes, especially in their unpredictable weather nowadays. No one ever talks about those sudden days. They’re always too busy being blinded by the sunny parts of their favorite person. Sometimes, they bring downpours, sparking damage or sprouting flowers on once dying grass. Their outcomes are equivalent, Ash presumes. Flowers had sprouted within his mother’s lungs and drowned her in its petals. Flowers had sprouted inside Shorter and he had almost gone too. Sunny days aren’t always guaranteed and Ash needs to be careful.

 

Eiji turns away to cough inside his arm, muffling the sound. When the coughing persists for seconds longer, Ash orders a glass of water and hands it to Eiji before he can keel over on the spot. Eiji’s big, brown eyes center on the glass, extending a hand towards it than gulping it down like a man out of water.

 

The coughing subsides.

 

“You okay?” Ash asks as Eiji takes his last gulp of water.

 

He nods, wiping away the tears prickling at the edge of his eyes. “Allergies.”

 

“We can go outside if it helps?” Ash suggests. “I don’t want you hacking up a lung.”

 

Eiji’s eyes flash with an unreadable emotion but get rapidly replaced with, what Ash thinks is, an empty smile. More like a quick upwards twitch at the corners of his mouth. Those nightmare-plagued nights must be taking a toll on him. Ash remembers how much it did for him back when he was dealing with nightmares too.

 

“But they will be serving dinner soon. Won’t you miss it?”

 

Ash grins, “I’m sure no one will mind if we eat outside.”

 

There’s hesitance that precedes Eiji’s final decision to nod. He requests a bottle of water before he goes and takes a sip from it as they head to the parking lot, greeting Max and Jessica on their way out. It’s hush now that the small crowd of guests has finally filed in, seated at their tables, chatting aimlessly as they wait for dinner to be served.

 

They seat themselves on the far side of the concrete steps to keep themselves from people’s way. The sun is at its last stages of setting, darkening the sky with a purple melting into black. The loud sounds of the city drum the air; an ambulance’s siren rings off somewhere close, inducing a flinch from Eiji. Albeit the noises of the busy world fill their atmosphere for brief moments then vanish into a far distance, everything feels at peace. The soft breeze isn’t too cold to feel oppressive and the lights from the banquet hall gloss the parking lot enough for Ash to see Eiji’s light pink cardigan.  

 

They talk about a lot of things. So much so that it causes Eiji’s voice to become hoarse, needing a few sips from his water after clearing up his throat. Sometimes, Eiji stiffens when Ash asks how Chomp is doing or when he asks about the names of his other plants. He finds it kind of weird but thinks Eiji is probably still too embarrassed about Ash finding out his plant-naming habit. Eiji eventually lists their names, hesitantly at times, and Ash laughs at the ones based on puns. Eiji softly does too.

 

“It must be difficult to take care of all of them.”

 

“Sometimes…” Eiji replies in a raspy tone. He clears his throat once more, a fist over his mouth as he does so, “Especially as they grow taller. Sometimes it feels like they are eating up my home.”

 

Ash chuckles, “I can imagine.”

 

They talk for some more, sharing the few macarons left in the bowl Ash is still carrying. Not too later after they’ve finished them, Michael comes out to bring them plates of food with Skip. Eiji thanks them, asking Michael if he is taking good care of his Pikmin figure. Michael crosses his heart that his Pikmin figure is in good hands, babbling on about where he has set it in his room.

 

When the boys depart, their conversation gets cut short again when a woman approaches the two asking for someone who works at the flower shop where the centerpieces were bought from. Jessica had pointed them out to the woman after she had asked her too. Eiji happily gives her details about the shop while Ash moves to the side to give them some privacy.

 

His phone pings with a message from Shorter asking for directions to the reception. Apparently, he's been lost for an hour now and Ash rolls his eyes as he skims through the endless texts currently spamming his phone.

 

Ash for a fact knows Shorter ignored Alex’s directions.

 

What a fucking idiot.

* * *

There’s no better feeling than the boost Yut-Lung’s ego gets when people come up to him showing interest in his flower shop.

 

All those years of working hours and hours in high school then more hours and hours in college have finally paid off. Yut-Lung was finally free from depending on his shitty older brothers, breaking all contact with them the moment he was able to take care of himself.

 

These moments, when his craft gets appreciated by others, always give him a minute to breathe.

 

“You’re sure getting popular.”

 

Yut-Lung scoffs then smirks. “Don’t be jealous, Sing. I’m sure there are people who enjoy whatever you’re trying to make at your workplace too.”

 

“Yeah, says the guy who buys pizza from us on a literal daily basis,” he grumbles in return.

 

“I’m trying to help you keep your job.”

 

“Yeah, right! Those boxes of candle flowers I planted outside the place brought in a horde of bees!”

 

“They’re called _calendulas_ ,” Yut-Lung cuts in. “Do you not pay attention to me? I literally taught you basic flower names yesterday and I’m sure calendulas was one of them.”

 

Sing juts out his lip and groans. “Candle flowers, calendulas. Tomato, tomato.”

 

“They sound nothing alike.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

For the most part, Yut-Lung is having fun at a wedding reception he felt slightly nervous attending. Not because the event has anything to do with Ash (who, by the way, is a _terrible_ host), but by the minuscule detail that Sing plans to introduce him to his friends.

 

This shouldn’t be a big deal yet Yut-Lung always finds a way to turn something small into a _huge_ deal in his head which led him to spend the whole morning rehearsing his one line in the mirror as he was getting ready.

 

_A pleasure to meet you. I’m Yut-Lung, Sing’s…boyfriend? Date?_

 

Who knows.

 

Until Sing had finally asked him when they had a twinkle of alone time while watering the flowers if Yut-Lung wanted to make their relationship official and Yut-Lung swears he felt his whole face go on fire.

 

So, to say the least, tonight is going _great_ for him.

 

Meeting some of Sing’s friends is a success, despite how rowdy and boisterous they can be, and dancing, something Yut-Lung look forward to doing with each other, is a _kind of_ success. Although dancing is difficult when both of them aren’t great at it, only knowing the basic steps to slow songs. They occasionally step on each other’s feet too, glaring at each other every time it happens, but it instantly fades into bundles of laughter.

 

Being around Sing always brings him bundles of laughter. And cherry faces, but he won’t mention that to him. That would be feeding too much into his ego.

 

After more attempts at dancing to faster songs, they decide to seat themselves back at their empty table when the dance floor gets packed. Sing plucks a stem of Baby’s Breath from its bundle in the jar of the centerpiece, handing it over to Yut-Lung with a teasing smile.

 

“For you.”

 

Yut-Lung rests his cheek on his palm as his eyes shift up to meet Sing’s. “Good job, Sing. You probably killed it.”

 

Sing’s eyes go wide and his mouth falls agape. “Did I really?” he asks in a panic.

 

“No,” Yut-Lung simpers, taking the flower from his hand and sets it back in the jar with the others. “It should be fine.”  

 

Sing places a hand over his chest and exhales, “Good.”

 

How sweet, Yut-Lung thinks. His smirk transforms into a fond smile as he watches Sing fold his arms on the table and rest his chin on them, staring at the jar of flowers intently. His head, however, perks up when he sees a familiar face rush into the hall.

 

And _that_ familiar face and head of purple hair poking out in the midst of the crowd all but nothing makes Yut-Lung’s heart accelerate, especially when Sing’s face beams in recognition.

 

“Shorter and Alex are finally here!” Sing exclaims, jumping up from his seat and onto his feet. He jerks his head in Yut-Lung’s direction with a grin, “Do you mind if they come sit with us?”

 

He _really_ does mind. Everything was going fine and everything can remain fine if _he can just go find Eiji_. There’s no need to panic, he assures himself, everything will be fine.

 

“Not at all,” he responds nonchalantly. Yut-Lung reaches for his phone in the pocket of his jacket and fakes a smile. “Actually, Eiji just texted me that he needs to borrow my charger. I’ll be back.”

 

Sing nods, “I’ll be here if you need me.”

 

Yut-Lung nods before he parts, swerving through the maze of people to get to the closest exit.

 

He finds Ash and Eiji by the snack table, dipping strawberries into the chocolate fountain. It’s sickly cute how they’re both smiling together. Yet Eiji’s smile looms wearily. Like he teeters and totters between real and fake which, for some reason, forms a pit in Yut-Lung’s stomach. Eiji’s smile is lovely and seeing it become such a tired one in the span of a week sets an inkling of concern within him.

 

Maybe he’ll brew him hibiscus tea when they get home. That should help him sleep.

 

He stands before them with his hands on his hips and when they don’t turn to look at him, he clears his throat, drawing both pairs of eyes towards him.

 

Ash groans, “Did Sing get bored of you already?”

 

“Nope. Just making sure Eiji isn’t catching the Dumbass Disease is all.”

 

“Not that shit again.”

 

No matter how much Yut-Lung tries to understand what Eiji sees in, who Yut-Lung believes is, the biggest vexatious asshole he’s ever met, he can’t see it. He doesn’t understand why and all he can conclude is Eiji has horrible taste.

 

“Anyway,” Yut-Lung interjects, directing his sight towards an Eiji in the midst of munching on a strawberry. “How are you, Eiji? Tired yet?”

 

Eiji takes the last bite of his strawberry and hums, “Just a little.”

 

“Of Ash? I get it.”

 

“No!” he says loudly. Blushing, he repeats his answer quietly this time, peeking towards Ash when he hears the sound of his chuckling. “No, not him. Just tired overall.”

 

Yut-Lung frowns when he hears Eiji’s voice. It sounds raw and breathy, worse compared to how it sounded like in the morning. At least then he still sounded like Eiji. Now, he sounds like the crow that caws on the red oak tree by the flower shop. A very unpleasing and foreboding sound.

 

“I’m feeling a little tired too,” he says, yawning for emphasis. “When Sing is done talking to his friends, I’ll ask him to drive us home.”

 

Eiji hums in agreement, grabbing a bowl of berries from the snack table and hands them to him. “You can eat with us while we wait.”

 

Yut-Lung sees Ash pout from the corner of his eyes, reluctantly nodding in compliance. He takes the bowl of berries and snorts, “Only you would eat healthy at a wedding reception.”

 

“Berries are good for you,” Eiji croaks quietly.

 

Yut-Lung pops one in his mouth, “I’ve been eating healthy all week because of you.”

 

“We eat pizza. That is not healthy.”

 

“Yeah, but there are _vegetables_ on them.”

 

“That is not the same.”

 

Ash sneers, “Yeah, Yue. It’s not the same.”

 

“You’re not allowed to call me that. That privilege is only given to Eiji,” he declares, biting angrily into another berry.

 

After Eiji spends minutes pressuring the two to eat from the fruit platter, he ultimately gives up when he excuses himself to use the restroom, leaving Yut-Lung and Ash to bicker with themselves until Sing arrives alone unexpectedly to break their argument up.

 

When Eiji is finally out from the bathroom, Yut-Lung notices how Eiji’s eyes droop, forcing him to excessively blink or rub at them as he attempts conversing more with Ash about some bouquets he needs for an occasion.

 

Yut-Lung turns to Sing, looking over at Eiji at times to ensure he doesn’t fall over. “It’s getting late. We should go.”

 

Sing takes Yut-Lung’s hand in his own, squeezing it tenderly. “Sure. Are you staying at Eiji’s again?”

 

“I’m not sure. I kind of want to check on the mouse traps real quick...if you don’t mind.”

 

Sing smiles and it thaws Yut-Lung’s heart. “Of course not.”

 

Yut-Lung watches Eiji note down something on a sheet of paper before handing it to Ash. Ash thanks him then waves them all good-bye. Minus Yut-Lung, who Ash sticks his tongue out to instead. Yut-Lung returns the dismissal, flipping him off.

 

As they walk to the car, Yut-Lung notices Eiji’s glowing red ears as he glances down at his phone every so often.

 

He arches a brow when he finds Eiji doing it for the fifth time. “Did you give him your number?”

 

Eiji squeaks, staring at him with pressed lips, phone clutched in his fist. “He wanted to make an appointment for some bouquets he needs.”

 

“He could just call the shop’s number,” he grunts out while trying to budge Sing’s car door open.

 

Eiji opens his with ease, scrambling in. He waits for Yut-Lung to get in before he responds.

 

“He says he does not want the chance of you picking up.”

 

Sing muffles a laugh behind his hand while staring out the side window. Yut-Lung glares at him, slapping his bicep which incites Sing's laughter to grow louder as he pushes his keys into the ignition.

 

“If it makes you feel better,” Sing starts, his eyes crinkling with admiration. “I look forward to you picking up my calls.”

 

Yut-Lung sinks into his seat, cheeks glowing red. Maybe dating Sing is the one best decision he made in his life.

 

“But only sometimes. Other days you can be a total ass⸺”

 

Yut-Lung wedges his hand in Sing’s side earning him a groan of pain.

 

Dating Sing is an absolute mistake.

* * *

For the first time in a week, Eiji thinks he’s finally ready to let go of all his fears for one night.

 

His cheek droops against the seatbelt, allowing his eyes to shut for seconds before he’s wincing awake⸺his fears winning over him each time. The soft jazz music playing from the radio invites more of the weary feeling to enter his body until it drifts him into this back and forth of falling asleep then jolting back awake.

 

By the time he’s nearly fast asleep again, a pat on his knee wakes him, and through his blurry vision, he sees it’s Yut-Lung. Eiji sits up, blinking away the bleariness baring his view. He looks out the window then back at Yut-Lung when he realizes they’re not at his apartment.

 

“You are not staying tonight?”

 

“I’m not sure yet,” he answers hushedly. “Sing and I are going to check if the mouse is still there. Will you be fine waiting in the car alone? It shouldn’t take too long.”

 

Eiji nods, leaning his head back against the car seat and shutting his eyes for one...two...five seconds, finding Yut-Lung still staring back at him when they open anew. This time, there’s a glint of something in them. Like he’s upset or concerned, and whichever emotion he’s feeling, Eiji hopes it’s none of the above.

 

“Call me if you need something, got it?”

 

Eiji nods again. This time, more alert and energized so he won’t suspect anything.

 

Yut-Lung inspects him over before he and Sing are stepping out of the car with a “we’ll be back in ten.”

 

Eiji hears the car _beep_ signaling it’s locked. The silence and the solitude allow Eiji’s shoulders to sag, relaxing back into the seat so he can return to shutting, pausing, then reopening his eyes once more.

 

The wedding reception leaves him feeling like mush. He knows he shouldn’t have gone. Going was like crossing dangerous waters that could and would have drowned him. Yet he took the chance, straying from Yut-Lung’s side when he shouldn’t have, and going leaves him with a raw throat and his food gone down the pipes of the toilet when the petals force him to hack it all up.

 

All because he’s near Ash...and although there's a warmth he feels when he's near Ash, Eiji can't help feel like Ash is becoming so much more out of reach the closer he becomes.

 

His throat tickles and he wants to claw at it. He wants to go back to when his voice wasn’t grating, when caring for plants wasn’t scary, when Mrs. Bloom wasn’t locked up in a cupboard. He wants to go back to when there were never petals clogging his throat and he could breathe.

 

That all seems like a dream now. A dream that replays in his head while he’s awake and accidentally over-watering his plants.

 

Eiji sighs, glancing down at his phone glowing in the darkness of the car. There are no notifications. Nothing. Not from Yut-Lung and definitely not from Ash. He’s foolish for thinking Ash would ask for his number for more than setting up an appointment. What does he expect? Eiji has been making stupid decisions and making up stupid dreams in his head. That’s the place he’s been living in for most of the week: in his head.

 

He shifts in his seat, unbuckling the seatbelt so he can properly look out the window. He can’t see the stars tonight. The light pollution and sky-reaching buildings block them all out. Though Yut-Lung has been gone for mere minutes, Eiji is oddly lonely without him.

 

He blows air on to the window, fogging up enough to cover half his face. He draws random squiggles with his finger until most of the fog clears up, revealing the shadow of Sing striding back to the driver seat with Yut-Lung on the opposite side.

 

“Did you catch it?” Eiji asks as Yut-Lung settles in his seat after budging the handle open.

 

He sits down with a sigh, looking behind his seat towards Eiji. “We did. _Two_ to be exact.”

 

“Look Eiji!” Sing says, turning in his seat with a trap in each hand. He raises the one in his right, “Doesn’t this one look like Yut-Lung?”

 

“ _Me?_ ” Yut-Lung’s voice shrills. “Compare me to a mouse one more time and _I swear,_ we’re never going on another date again.”

 

“Well...I think the other one looks like me.”

 

Yut-Lung scowls, “You’re absolutely repulsive Sing.”

 

Before the night officially ends, they release the mice at a park by Eiji’s apartment. Yut-Lung decides to stay one more night at Eiji’s with the promise of making him hibiscus tea to compensate for his overstay. Although living with Yut-Lung for a week has been, to put it in kind words, _difficult_ , Eiji grew strangely attached to his presence.

 

He could have done without the hibiscus tea though.

 

It’s acidic and gross, forcing his eyes to squeeze shut and his face to pucker as he swallows it down. He drinks it down anyway, Yut-Lung monitoring him each time he pops out from the bathroom with a new product on his face.

 

“You better finish it. Hibiscus tea helps you sleep.”

 

Eiji groans, scoffing quietly. “You said sticking flowers up my nose would help wake me up and it didn’t. I do not believe you now.”

 

“It does! Trust me. You’ll be out like a light in no time.”

 

Eiji rolls his eyes, slumping his head on the table as he drums his fingers against the plastic cup between his hands. When he begrudgingly finishes it, Yut-Lung comes to collect the cup then washes it while demanding Eiji to get ready for bed.

 

He does so, reluctantly, washing his face and brushing his teeth then releasing the one petal irritating his throat. Eiji gently crushes it in his hand, sneaking back into his room to stuff it with all the others in his sock drawer. For something as pretty as calla lily petals, they taste as gross as hibiscus tea

 

Eiji collapses on his bed, relishing in its soft sheets after a long day of holding back petals, and tears, and his feelings for a particular guy who probably has no interest in him at all. He reaches for the pillow below him and whines into it.

 

“You’re always doing something weird every time I leave you alone.”

 

Eiji turns, glancing straight at Yut-Lung who’s standing by the door. “It was a long day.”

 

“It was,” Yut-Lung says, taking the spot on the opposite side of Eiji’s bed. He lays down, meeting Eiji’s eyes. “Which is why I’m sleeping here tonight. I can’t with the air mattress, Eiji. It sucks.”

 

Eiji flicks him on his forehead, inducing a wince and a yelp from Yut-Lung. “Big baby.”

 

With a flick from Yut-Lung back, they decide to end their conversation and shut off the lights.

 

Eiji lays there in the dark, listening to Yut-Lung’s quiet breathing as he sleeps. The lights from the city gleam through the fissure in the curtains, easing Eiji’s fears when the random flashes confirm the figures he sees in the pitch black are not real. They’re a figment of his imagination and knowing that is enough to help him sleep.

 

Then…he’s slipping.

 

Submerging.

 

Ceasing.

 

And rising.

 

It’s not pretty. Not like a phoenix when it rises from the ashes or a caterpillar waking from its sleep to the realization it has become beautiful.

 

It’s Eiji falling out of his bed and running to the bathroom to spit out whatever is trying to take him away into the toilet. He coughs and he coughs, but it's like they’ve all coagulated in his throat while he was asleep. His throat burns with each grudging cough and black spots shape themselves in his vision from the force of it all.

 

He hears a voice calling for him in a different room and when he briefly comes to his senses after a few of them spew out, he rushes to unlock the door, but it’s being slammed open before he can hide the reeking smell of vomit filling the room.

 

“What the hell?”

 

Eiji can only focus on Yut-Lung’s haunted face for so long until he’s back to hurling into the toilet whatever remains in his lungs and his stomach. The water is light pink from the hibiscus tea he drunk earlier, almost seeming as if he's regurgitating blood. The thought of that makes him shudder.

 

When the heaving finally stops, Eiji rests his body against the tub, his legs curled in an uncomfortable position and his hands shaking as he wipes off the few beads of sweat perspiring on his forehead.

 

He exhales. There’s a wheeze.

 

Yut-Lung rushes to his side, his eyes wide and scared. “What...Why didn’t you say anything! Were you hiding this all along?”

 

Eiji can’t answer. He’s too busy fighting to breathe.

 

“I’m so stupid! I knew you were hiding something!”

 

He hears his throat whistle, but he breathes nonetheless.

 

“Can you breathe? I’ll call for an ambulance, just wait right here⸺“

 

He yelps faintly.

 

_“No!”_

 

Eiji clasps on to Yut-Lung’s hand, eyes glistening with tears at the edges. Yut-Lung looks at him, scandalized. His hands are shaking too. Both of them are afraid.

 

“Eiji...this isn’t⸺this isn’t normal. This is dangerous!”

 

“I’m okay…”

 

Yut-Lung utters an incredulous scoff, “Really? You could have fooled me.”

 

He tries tugging his hand away from Eiji’s grasp, but Eiji weakly latches both his hands to stop him. “Tomorrow!” he shouts, throat stinging in resistance. “I will get help tomorrow,” he promises, quieter this time, a sob threatening to leave him. “I can⸺I can breathe...I can breathe now.”

 

“You can’t keep hiding all of this,” Yut-Lung stammers. His eyebrows knit together and waver. “This isn’t okay⸺ _you’re_ not okay right now.”

 

“I - I am,” he says but it comes out in a whisper. The knot in his throat keeps him from speaking any louder.

 

“ _Stop._ Just stop hiding all of this from me,” Yut-Lung cries, squatting down in front of him. He looks him straight in the eyes, his hands now holding his tight. “If you’re doing this⸺hiding this, I mean⸺because you want to convince yourself it’s going to be okay, it’s _not_. Doing that will kill you, Eiji, this isn’t a joke.”

 

It all comes crumbling down: fast and loud. Understanding it all, but pretending it’s all make-believe, hurts more when Yut-Lung crushes his illusion dead. Eiji knows he’s in a risky game, one where the monsters are inside him and trying to immobilize him until he’s no longer him anymore. Until the monsters make him theirs.

 

And he’s letting them win.

 

His tears burn then spill. He pulls his knees close to his chest and weakly tugs his hand away from Yut-Lung’s grasp.

 

Eiji covers his eyes with his arms. He needs to think. He needs to push himself into the deepest cranny and think. Destroying the petals inside him means destroying memories with Ash. He needs to _think_ if that’s what he really wants.

 

It’s not.

 

“Please, _no_ , Yue. They will make them go away.”

 

Silence hugs the room. Eiji feels claustrophobic and all he wants now is an answer from Yut-Lung. One that promises he won’t call for help. He needs time to get help. Rushing into it terrifies him.

 

Eiji flinches when a hand holds his again. He’s afraid to look at Yut-Lung, worried he won’t promise him.

 

“You have to swear to me you’ll go then,” he murmurs. His voice grows louder, “ _Swear_ to me you’ll go.”

 

Eiji pulls his arm away and sniffles, nodding weakly. “I swear.”

 

Yut-Lung crosses his legs together, letting out a shaky breath. His eyes shift up at the ceiling, blinking away whatever is bothering his eyes. Eiji watches him.

 

“I will be okay.”

 

Yut-Lung peers back at him, the corner of his mouth twitching downwards. “Of course you will.”

 

Eiji isn’t looking for confirmation, but it relieves a heavy part in his chest. “Okay,” he whispers, squeezing Yut-Lung’s hand gently.

 

Eiji hears the faint sound of Yut-Lung’s voice cracking when he repeats the last syllable of “okay.”

 

He wonders why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: please don't reach 20 pages, please don't reach 20 pages  
> doc: *22 pages*  
> me: shit
> 
> I'd be immensely grateful if anyone can point out any grammatical/spelling errors! Although I went over this three times, I still feel like there are more errors in this one than previous chapters haha.


	7. venus can push and shove, but she won't win this battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yut-Lung acts like a mama bear, Eiji has a bad coughing fit, and Sing falls in a dilemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo recently I've gotten into the bad habit of editing while writing which is one reason why updates have been taking longer and asfkfalfh idk I'm annoying myself with how long it's taking me to write recently. Also angst?? Very difficult to write. I don't know how other writers do it lmao. 
> 
> Some history behind the calla lily btw: There's a myth about Venus (the goddess of love and beauty) who got jealous of how beautiful lilies were and saw them as competition. So she was like, "Nahh, bitch" and put a yellow pistil in the middle of the flowers lol. Hence, the title of this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tomorrow passes. Then more days and more days…

 

A whole week and two days actually. One consisting of Yut-Lung smothering Eiji to pieces as he holds over his head that Eiji _swore_ to him he’d go like an incessant clock ringing that time is running, time is running, _time is_ always _running._

 

And ever since the night Yut-Lung caught him spitting out his petals inside a toilet bowl, Eiji slams that clock silent, marking the sixteenth day of his rinse, repeat sequence of coughing up what he can and swallowing back ones he can’t.

 

Eiji knows he should get help, but he won’t⸺not yet, anyway.

 

Everything in his head is like a mixed bag. The whole point of wanting Yut-Lung to find out was so that, that bottomless feeling can go away. So it can stop digging deeper and deeper in that ugly cranny of his mind shouting at him that he’s dying. So he can attend his classes regularly, so he can fall asleep without worrying, so he can start _sounding_ like himself again.

 

Yet it hasn’t. He still has that bottomless feeling, he’s still missing his classes constantly, his dreams are still haunted by giant caterpillars, and his voice still sounds like nails against a chalkboard. Eiji keeps digging that hole deeper and deeper until he’s six feet under before he’s even dead.

 

Right now, he’s too jumbled up to get help _._ Though it can be an option down the line, just not now. He can’t make decisions right now.

 

Ash comes by a few times in the nine days since the reception. They build bouquets together for his mother and brother’s gravesites. Sometimes they paint vases too; Ash whining over how wonky his drawings come out while Eiji attempts guiding him without retching out the yellow petals poking at his lungs. He tries ignoring the brisk pitter patter his heart composes within his chest, drumming what feels like an infinite rhythm that grows louder when Ash does little mundane things like plucking off leaves from flower stems or tapping away a text on his phone. Ash makes it an arduous effort to stifle the coughs.

 

Yut-Lung also bizarrely doesn’t run off like he usually does when Ash is around. In fact, he lingers, pretending he’s not watching them and busies himself by surreptitiously watering roses or constructing displays nearby where he can keep Eiji in his line of sight even if he’s pushed into another onslaught of tense banter with Ash.

 

On the seventh day marking Ash’s fourth visit in the nine days, it no longer is tense banter.

 

It’s Yut-Lung coming back at Ash with more callous that sometimes Ash gets taken aback by. It’s Ash retaliating, trying to bounce back from whatever Yut-Lung says with something that’s meant to be harmless, but strikes a nerve in Yut-Lung. The joke was something along the lines of Yut-Lung never giving Eiji a break; something innocuous. But that’s enough to get Yut-Lung riled up and stomping out to the pizza place, leaving Eiji anxious that Yut-Lung might spill his secret out from rage.

 

Ash starts joking around less after that. They don’t apologize to each other, both too stubborn to do so. Instead, they silently make amends on the third day when Yut-Lung quips about Ash breaking the No Loitering law. The teasing isn’t the same anymore. Ash is kinder with his words and Yut-Lung pretends to be annoyed, walking away to different parts of the shop when his face starts going red with anger.

 

And Eiji knows it’s because of him.

 

Nonetheless, Eiji acts as normal as he can be around Ash despite the scratchiness of his throat that aggravates each time he’s enveloped in his presence. Eiji hopes the more time he spends with him, the more likely he’ll summon up the courage to tell him. About everything.

 

But watching Yut-Lung and the way he’s acting⸺defensive and hurt⸺springs fear that nothing is or will ever be the same anymore. This feeling gets his chest constricting and thoughts swirling. There are petals too, of course. More so than usual when nothing but thoughts of losing the people who have ever helped him consume him.

 

He wants help so _why_ is he so afraid of it?

 

Yut-Lung tries, but Eiji’s impassivity either leads him to give Eiji the silent treatment or yell at him until his voice becomes wobbly, escaping into the backroom to sniffle into a tissue.

 

He shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Yut-Lung wouldn’t be crying in the backroom if he just stayed up or at least locked the stupidbathroom door when it happened. Eiji never meant to hurt anyone. But now there’s an orchid withering in his cupboard; Ash walking on eggshells when he jokes around; and his friendship with Yut-Lung falling apart.

 

Day Sixteen of trying to piece back his shattered illusion, the one where everything eventually turns out fine, isn’t working out. There’s a bunch of pieces missing⸺scattered everywhere⸺and Eiji is left helplessly striving to find them all.

 

Except they’re never found because they don’t exist. Instead, Eiji unpacks a box of yellow tulips and searches for a place they can belong. The shop is full though. Not in a disarray, but packed from the walls to the windows to the outdoor planters. It’s usually like this every start of the week since Monday is their restock day. Eiji holds the box tight against his chest, preventing it from slipping like last time. Sing now gives him prolong stares when he comes to visit or deliver pizza⸺covertly and with worry

 

Eiji shuffles his way to Yut-Lung sitting behind the counter as he converses on the phone with a customer, discussing scheduling times and details about centerpieces. They’ve been receiving more phone calls since the wedding and Eiji takes every busier day as a blessing. Those were the days when Yut-Lung wouldn’t pummel him with reminders about the promise. A promise Eiji knew he wouldn’t be able to keep, but exhaustion is a bitch and he needed Yut-Lung to stop announcing to all the echoes in his bathroom that spitting out flower petals isn’t normal. That _Eiji_ isn’t normal.

 

He really shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

 

Eiji situates the box on the counter, plucking a tulip out from inside and poking the stem against Yut-Lung’s cheek once he’s off the phone.

 

“Will you not talk to me today, Yue?”

 

Yut-Lung harshly swats the stem away, forcing it out of Eiji’s and on to the ground. Besides that, there’s no answer from him. It’s silent treatment day, Eiji guesses. The fifth time in the nine days Yut-Lung found out.

 

He sighs, shutting the box after taking another tulip. Eiji brushes the tulip's petals under Yut-Lung’s nose hoping it’ll make him smirk, smile, laugh, _anything_ that confirms he doesn’t completely hate him yet.

 

Rather, what he gets is Yut-Lung ripping the stem out of his hand and glowering.

 

“ _Stop._ ” His voice is short from a yell. At least that’s something. He needs some noise before the ugly part in the nook of his mind creeps in with new thoughts of hate. Eiji is tired of hearing that voice. That’s why he hates silent treatment days. He’s forced to listen to them an extra amount of time

 

“You have to at least tell me where to put the tulips, Yue. My arms are getting tired of carrying this box around.”

 

Yut-Lung’s eyes narrow in on the box Eiji is hugging. His gaze softens for a second before he’s returning his attention to his phone.

 

“Coolers,” is all Yut-Lung responds. Not even a full sentence. Eiji doesn’t deserve full sentences right now.

 

Eiji sighs but takes the tulips to the back anyway. He gently deposits the flowers into one of the coolers before he’s making his way back out, catching Yut-Lung sneak a glance at him before he’s back to tapping a text.

 

“What do I do now?” Asking questions is Eiji’s sneaky way of getting Yut-Lung to talk to him during silent treatment days. He’s sure Yut-Lung knows what he’s doing, yet he appeases Eiji every time even if there is some hesitance to his responses.

 

Yut-Lung’s eyes narrow and brows knit. He drops the phone on the counter and whips his head towards him.

 

“You can do the honorable thing and follow up with your promise.”

 

Eiji never considered what he should do if his sneaky tactic ever backfired though.

 

“Yue⸺”

 

“It’s Yut-Lung now. You’ve been demoted.”

 

“Demoted from what?”

 

Yut-Lung thinks for a minute then groans. “I don’t know. But you can’t call me Yue anymore until you fulfill your promise.”

 

“Okay, _Yut-Lung_ ,” Eiji starts. “I am doing much better today. I have it under control.”

 

Yut-Lung scoffs bitterly. “Yeah, definitely, ‘under control.’ Not like you weren’t puking out petals half an hour ago, but I guess that’s just a casual thing you do, isn’t it?”

 

Eiji feels his throat burn, and it’s not because of the petals. “You can...go back to the silent treatment now. “

 

Yut-Lung taps his fingers against the counter. The noise, for some reason, settles an anxious feeling in the pit of Eiji’s stomach.

 

“You asked for a task and I gave you one,” he harrumphs. “You want me to talk to you and I talk to you. But _now_ you want me to shut up? It’s one step forward and two steps back with you!”

 

Eiji sucks in a breath then releases it. His chest starts to ache. “I just want you to stop looking at me like - like there is something wrong with me.”

 

“There _is_ , Eiji! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Yut-Lung’s hand crumples into a fist before it falls harshly against the counter. “You keep pretending nothing is wrong! Like merrily dancing around Ash is going to solve anything.”

 

“Yut-Lung⸺”

 

“Or breaking the one thing you _swore_ to me you’d do,” he chokes out. “It’s not even that you lied that bothers me, Eiji. It’s that you won’t do anything to help yourself.”

 

“I - I _do_ want help.” The petals in his lungs sting him. They don’t want him to get help. Then _they’ll_ die.

 

“Then _listen_ to me this time,” his voice is soft now. Eiji likes this sound. It’s different from the one in his head and drastically different from the voice Yut-Lung has been using since he found out. “It won’t be the same if you’re - if you’re…”

 

Eiji wearily smiles. He reaches over to hold Yut-Lung’s fists until they unfold and hold Eiji’s hands. Yut-Lung doesn’t look directly at him. Eiji thinks it has something to do with the quiver his voice began securing near the end.

 

“I will go after work,” he says firmly. This time, for real. It’s not sleep deprivation talking (well, _kind of_ , but not as much as last time) or him trying to stop Yut-Lung from calling an ambulance. It’s himmaking this promise. _Eiji._ “I will not lie to you this time.”

 

Yut-Lung finally looks up, confirming the tears Eiji knew were welling. He smiles, relieved, and that raises a tiny bit of guilt from all the worry Eiji must have put on Yut-Lung’s shoulders since he found out. But things will get better now. Eiji really hopes they will.

 

“Good. Because,” Yut-Lung sniffles, clearing the frog in his throat. “Because no one takes pictures of flowers as good as you.”

 

“No one takes pictures of flowers as good as me,” Eiji reiterates with a breathy laugh.  

 

“You can call me Yue again.”

 

Eiji nods. “Okay, Yue.” Then, he coughs.

 

“Are you two having a moment? I can go.”

 

 _Ah_ , that’s why. Eiji wonders if coughing is the bat signal that summons Ash’s arrival now. A really fucked up version of the bat signal if Eiji can say so himself.

 

“Go” is all Yut-Lung says. There’s an underlying sense of tart in his tone. Eiji narrows in on him, mouthing him to stop whatever fight he’s aiming to pull. There’s been enough fighting in the last nine days. Eiji needs a break.

 

Yut-Lung rolls his eyes, bending down to snatch the watering can stored behind the counter. “I’ll water the azaleas. Eiji, help yourself to helping him,” he ends emphatically.

 

He glares at Yut-Lung as he walks off to the front of the store. He expects to see a smirk hanging from his lips, but he’s met with solemnity and Eiji can’t help feel culpable.

 

“Is your cough getting any better?”

 

Eiji flinches, turning back to the voice that makes him feel a mishmash of emotions, leaving behind a growing ache within his chest.

 

“A little,” he answers, his voice choosing the worst moment to crack mid-sentence. “Yue makes me drink ginger tea four times a day. It’s gross.”

 

Ash huffs a laugh, “The worst.”

 

Definitely worse than the hibiscus tea. Though, Eiji is _pissed_ the hibiscus tea actually worked getting him to sleep. It wasn’t supposed to. Yut-Lung wouldn’t currently be looking over his shoulder with absolute anger and concern had it not been for the fucking hibiscus tea.

 

Eiji clears his throat, nonchalantly shaking the thoughts of that night away. By Ash’s raised brows, Eiji realizes the act wasn’t nonchalant at all. “Can I help you with anything?” He asks before Ash can comment.

 

“I’m looking for a plant,” he says. “One that screams, ‘I’m an adult who surely commits every minute of their weekends to studying and definitely not in trying to get his streak back on Smash Bros’ which⸺by the way⸺is such _bullshit_ and I know my friends⸺no, my _enemies_ ⸺are cheating.”

 

Eiji holds back from laughing. “That is a very specific plant you are looking for.”

 

“It’s a very specific occasion.”

 

“Are you...trying to bribe someone?”

 

There’s a pause. “No.”

 

“That does not sound convincing.”

 

“That does not sound convincing,” Ash mimics, and Eiji simpers behind a hand while the petals fidget inside. “I’m trying to _persuade_ a professor to reconsider my grade because I’ve been working really hard in this class and again, _definitely_ not spending ‘study time’ playing some game that I _know_ has been tampered with.”

 

“I don’t know if a plant will be a good _persuading_ gift,” Eiji emphasizes. Because it’s doubtlessly not a bribe and Eiji may have a thing for Ash, so much so that he’s spitting out calla lily petals for him, but even _he_ would never fall for a not-bribe like a plant.

 

(That’s a complete lie. Eiji knows he sure as hell would fall for that not-bribe.)

 

“As a good friend, I trust you,” Ash says earnestly. “I know you’ll help me choose a plant that’ll get my eighty-eight point nine percent grade rounded to a ninety.”

 

A newfound warmth settles itself in the chambers of Eiji’s chest and it burns enough to remind him there are petals in there too. Ash’s words probably mean nothing. Just lighthearted teasing is all. Eiji knows he’s only hurting himself by reading more than what’s in between the lines yet he can’t help it. He needs these slivers of hope to fight against the monsters and the inconsistency that’s always chewing away at him. Eiji needs a chance. He really, really wants a chance.

 

His throat burns.

 

He coughs into the crook of his elbow, swallowing back the petals that dare creep up. The sound draws a fast look from Yut-Lung who seems ready to drop the watering can and run to Eiji’s aid, but Eiji gives him a subtle nod, reassuring him he’s okay. Yut-Lung seems hesitant at first but returns to watering flowers nonetheless.

 

Eiji clears his throat the first time, but a wheeze spills out instead of words, inducing a forced chuckle from Ash when Eiji tries relieving his throat for the second time.

 

“Okay, but you can’t be disappointed if this does not work,” Eiji teases, and there’s a bite at his heart from the artificial cheerfulness. No, it’s real, but his irrational voice paints these moments as a mirage.

 

“I’m sure whatever you pick out won’t be disappointing,” Ash assures and that doesn’t stop the tiny monsters from crawling up his lungs again. “I trust you’ll give it a cool name too.”

 

Eiji blushes and grumbles, “I don’t name _all_ of them.”

 

“You’re right. You would get attached.”

 

“No!”

 

Ash laughs and the sound makes Eiji’s heart quiver. He needs to wiggle out those feelings from his system. So he can think, so he can breathe, so he can _stop_ falling down this rabbit hole of wanting to stay in Ash’s presence but also wanting to escape from it. Because Ash is too wonderful that it drives Eiji insane with this endless spiraling of questions about how a person can cause him so much pain while giving him such happy moments all at the same time.

 

He’s so tired of all the tumbling. It makes him dizzy.

 

“I guess naming it wouldn’t be such an ‘adult thing’ to do either,” Ash comments, biting down a smirk when Eiji sends him a glare. Naming his plants is possibly the most adult thing Eiji has ever done, excuse him.

 

“I am going to give you the _opposite_ type of plant you are looking for.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Ash snorts. “And what would that be?”

 

Eiji ponders for a while. He might be playing with fire with his answer, but it’s worth making a teensy, harmless joke about it. He doesn’t think the petals will mind...he hopes.

 

“Calla lilies.”

 

“Calla lilies?”

 

Eiji nods. Ash pauses like he’s waiting for Eiji to continue his explanation, but no explanation comes.

 

“Aren’t calla lilies supposed to be the epitome of sophistication or some shit?” Ash says. His little smirk starts dissolving when Eiji decides to mess with him by giving him a confused look. “I don’t know, that’s what I heard from my mom when she was picking out her bouquet.”

 

Eiji snorts. “Well, they are usually used for weddings. Sometimes funerals too.”

 

“Yeah, no. Calla lilies are a definite no,” Ash concludes as his eyes wander around the place until they stop on one spot. Eiji looks over to what catches Ash’s green eyes and realizes they’re planted on the round display table centered in the middle of the shop. The table with all the ornaments.

 

“Are those [ plants in a fishbowl](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f8/0f/02/f80f0224414def507e16c5f5403748fd.jpg)?” He asks as he walks towards it. Ash eyes the glass bowl carefully, releasing a quiet gasp after seconds of bug-eyed staring. “Is there a _gnome_ in there?”

 

Eiji grins, “It is an air plant terrarium, and yes, that is a gnome.”

 

Ash flicks his fingers against the glass like he’s waiting for the gnome and plants to come to life. Eiji goes to stand beside him, leaning near his ear and whispering, “They are not real.”

 

Ash leans in too, almost bumping heads, and whispers back, “I know.”

 

Eiji offhandedly recoils, his face heating up from the close proximity. He tugs at the sleeves of his cardigan, fighting down the burning sensation infecting his throat and the urge to look over at Ash, curious to know what expression he’s wearing. How incredibly close Ash is all but helps cease his rapid heartbeat. It drums so fast and so loud, Eiji can hear the rhythm in his ears and he worries Ash might hear it too.

 

He holds his breath until he can’t, then exhales, a silent whistle airing out from the caverns of his chest. This time, breathing pains him more than it should.

 

These past few days of growing closer to Ash always seems to push Eiji further and further away from the shore where he can breathe and deeper into the depths of a sea that hearken him to stop before he’s completely submerged.

 

But it’s too late. He’s already drowning, and _fuck_ does it hurt to engulf.

 

Eiji quietly coughs into his sleeve.

 

“Do you think this fishbowl plant will get me an A?” Ash asks, inspecting it over more like he’s trying to seek out more of the little treasures beneath the plants' leaves. “I mean, he’s a chemistry professor. Science professors dig weird shit like this, right?”

 

“ _Air plant terrarium_ ,” Eiji corrects. Ash looks back at him and rolls his eyes. “And I think he might like it. Lots of people like air plant terrariums! Plus, they look really nice on a desk.”

 

Ash hums. “Good sales pitch. I’ll take it,” he concludes with a clap of his hands. Ash carefully reaches for the terrarium, gently placing it between Eiji’s hands. He smiles up at him, “This better get me an A.”

 

Eiji gulps, cheeks now burning red and an itch harboring between his throat. “It might.”

 

Eiji rings him up, almost dropping the terrarium a few times in the midst of his conversation with Ash about some rabbit his friend used to have that reminds him of Eiji. The proclamation flusters him so much that Ash starts sputtering too, accidentally entering in a game of hot potato with the terrarium.

 

“That - That wasn’t meant to sound weird, I swear,” Ash assures. “You just...you just kind of look like my friend’s old pet rabbit.”

 

Eiji hands Ash the bag with the terrarium inside before he almost drops it again. “I - it’s - um,” Eiji squeaks before he follows up with just, “cool.”

 

“I...It was _meant_ to be a compliment, but now I realize how weird that was. He was a cool rabbit and - nevermind, I’m making this worse,” Ash stiffly laughs, clumsily taking the bag before he starts heading to the exit. He turns back suddenly, almost bumping into the display table. Eiji gasps when he hears the ornaments rattle from the impact and he can sense Yut-Lung’s piercing gaze fall on Ash too.

 

Ash curses under his breath before he’s back to looking at Eiji. “Anyway, I’ll text you if it works,” he says, exiting after Eiji shyly waves him good-bye.

 

When he’s gone, Eiji drops his head against the counter, splaying his arms in front of him as he releases a half-beatific, half-dejected sigh. Every visit from Ash always sets this awful record of breaking Eiji’s heart little by little, piece by piece until there's only one-third of his heart left. Or that’s how it feels anyway. His lungs don’t feel so hot either. That would be an understatement considering how much of a furnace his chest feels right now. There's a rising discomfort in his throat too.

 

Eiji groans, taking a swig from the half-empty water bottle he left on the counter this morning. The water barely does anything to suffice the pain. He rests his head back on the surface, wallowing away.

 

“This is so stupid. He’s so stupid.” Eiji squeezes his eyes shut when he hears Yut-Lung approaching. “I never liked him in the first place, but now every time I see him, I just want to,” he hears the sound of a fist connecting with a palm, “punch that stupid, smug, oblivious _idiot_ in the face.”

 

“ _Yue_.”

 

“Don’t ‘ _Y_ _ue’_ me. You should be just as fucking pissed,” he scoffs. “He’s the reason you sound like that penguin from _Toy Story_.”

 

Eiji doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That’s...really mean Yue.”

 

“I’m being honest. It’s the only way you’ll listen to me.”

 

“No,” Eiji croaks out, lifting up his head. “I want to listen to you _less_ now.”

 

Yut-Lung rolls his eyes, “Whatever. I’ll stop being ‘mean’ to you when this all goes away. So soon. Like today soon.”

 

“I said I was going today, sheesh,” Eiji mumbles. “I do not think it will be helpful though.”

 

“It’s only unhelpful if you don’t take the doctors advice,” he contends as his eyes suddenly shift to his phone again.

 

Eiji frowns. He’s avoiding him. “What are you trying to say?”

 

Yut-Lung swipes his fingers against the screen, scrolling through the comments of their recent photo posted on their Instagram page. “Just to consider their advice is all. They _are_ professionals.”

 

Eiji’s lips press into a firm line. He knows _exactly_ what Yut-Lung is referring too.

 

“I am not getting rid of them,” he asserts. Eiji tries to get his voice low and matter-of-fact though the hoarseness that slithers out doesn’t help.

 

“Eiji⸺”

 

“Yue, _no_ ,” he warns. “I do not want to hear that today. I really don’t.” The prospect of getting rid of the petals concocts more and more fear and more and more ache. Surgery is a solution, he knows this, but it’s not a good one. Not in his eyes anyway, and he hates how selfish his mind twists his decision to be because he’s doing it for _himself_ and for a long, long time, Eiji never got to make that choice. He doesn’t like the feeling it leaves behind.

 

He rubs his neck. The pain grows.

 

“Fine, not like you’ll listen to me anyway,” Yut-Lung dismisses before he starts dialing on his phone. “It’s break time. I’m ordering pizza.”

 

Eiji groans and seats himself on the stool behind the counter, watching Yut-Lung skip to the front of the shop to wait for Sing. Eiji rests his head on his crossed arms, blinking away tears that form from the impending cough crawling up his throat. It burns so fucking much that Eiji wonders if his throat is catching on fire. This doesn’t feel right. It’s not like the other times where it burns for seconds, then follows the cough, then the petals come out, and then Eiji is left wondering when it will happen again.

 

This is different. They feel _stuck_ like Eiji’s actually drowning.

 

He gulps down more water, trying to push down the boiling panic. Eiji’s fine, the petals aren’t stuck, he’s not drowning. It’s the irrational thoughts trying to gnaw at him again. Trying to freak him out like it always does.

 

Eiji breathes and there’s that wheeze again. A whistle sounding in his throat.

 

He’s fine, he’s fine, _he’s fine…_

 

So why can’t he fucking breathe?

 

“Yue…” he calls out, but it’s too quiet. Yut-Lung can’t hear him because he’s too far away and too distracted by whatever he’s staring at out the window. Eiji hears the jingle of the bell above the door. Yut-Lung has gone outside and Eiji is going to stop breathing in this little spot, at the back of the counter, all alone, with the static sound filling his ears and a faint voice in his mind whispering _today is the day._

 

Eiji doesn’t want today to be the day. He wants a thousand more days and maybe even more than that. He wants to name more plants and free the one he imprisoned in his cupboard. He wants to take pictures of hundreds of flowers even when calla lilies are trying to kill him. He wants to smile and laugh with his favorite person, who didn’t mean to make his heart ache and lungs fill with a thing that’s meant to be the height of beauty but now is becoming the source of everything ugly.

 

Ash didn’t mean to do this. He didn’t mean to make Eiji wither.

 

Eiji has been craving sleep and it’s coming, but he doesn’t want it now. Not yet.

 

He gets up from the stool, calling out Yut-Lung’s name in whispers until his knees buckle under him and he falls, gagging on the tile floor. He plants his trembling hands against the ground, trying to push himself back up, but the force of the coughing and the retching keep pulling him down, pressing him to stare at the mess beneath him. A mass of bile and yellow petals fused together, something he has seen so many times in the days since it started, but there’s something new, something scarier. Within it all, and the string of saliva running down his mouth, there’s blots of red.

 

He shudders and almost stops breathing from the sight of it, but instinct commands him to exhale when those milliseconds of malaise overwhelm him. There’s no time for ruminating about the blood or today being the day he finally slips into that sleep he shouldn't have craved for.

 

Eiji needs to breathe and if that means hacking his fucking lung out, he will.

 

It might have been mere seconds when he hears two pairs of footsteps fast approaching him after coughing up more and more calla lily petals defiled with more and more vomit and droplets of blood. He hears Yut-Lung ordering him to breathe, and Eiji knows this already. The visceral part of him won’t _shut up_ about needing to breathe. Now he has Yut-Lung here telling him too, but Eiji can’t. The petals are compacted in his throat and no matter how hard he’s coughing, only one or two petals come out which frustrates him to no end.

 

There’s someone patting his back. Eiji takes a peek and to his horror, it’s Sing who is now trying to get Eiji to stand. It’s useless. His whole body feels like it’s melting from the heat of it all.

 

Eiji crumbles for many minutes until he feels it again. An opening in his throat that forms, allowing him to inhale...then exhale until he’s toppling on his side from the strike of the attack.

 

He grasps at his chest, attempting to control the rise and fall of his hiccuping sobs. There's arms wrap below his knees and beneath his back, feeling himself be held tight against someone’s chest as he’s lifted.

 

“Eiji! Eiji, can you hear me? We’re going to take you to the hospital. Sing is holding you, okay? I’m right beside you. Breathe! Can you do that for me? _Breathe._ ”

 

Eiji can do that. It takes a while, but he can do it. _He can breathe._

 

His world might be crumbling, but today isn’t the day where it all tumbles down.

* * *

Yut-Lung starts to regret every moment of the nine days he chose silence with Eiji.

 

He thought silence would motivate him, give him that push to consider how wallowing away and pining for some guy with the personality of a brick wall might not be the best idea. Yut-Lung was hoping Eiji would realize there are repercussions for pretending everything will piece itself together on its own.

 

That doesn’t happen. Pretending makes everything go away temporarily like a dream. Then there’s waking and it shatters that pipe dream apart. And Eiji could have died because of that.

 

And because of stupid Ash-fucking-whatever-the-rest-of-his-name-is.

 

It’s Ash’s fault Eiji is going through this. All of it.

 

Most of it.

 

Yut-Lung should have done something earlier too. Gosh, he’s to blame too.

 

He leans back in the chair he has been sitting in for the past hour, rubbing his fingers against his temple to ease the rising headache. The waiting room isn’t as full as it was when they first got here. Eiji was immediately tended to, leaving Yut-Lung and Sing with nervous anticipation about what choice Eiji planned on making though Yut-Lung expects nothing will change. Eiji seems dead set against surgery.

 

“They only had chamomile tea. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

Yut-Lung smiles up at Sing, taking the paper cup from his hands. “Thank you.”

 

Sing takes a seat in the chair beside him, letting out a sigh as he reclines back. The chatter from the historical soap opera playing on the TV centered in the waiting room helps ease the silence. Sing's jittering, however, starts irking Yut-Lung. He knows Sing wants to say something that will break the unease. And he's suddenly doing that, cutting the silence like a knife.

 

“Who is it, Yue?”

 

Yut-Lung takes a sip from his cup before glimpsing back at him. “Someone,” he replies bluntly.

 

Sing rolls his eyes, “Be specific. I won’t tell anyone.”

 

“I don’t think he would want you to know.” He pauses. “He didn’t even want _me_ to know.”

 

Sing shakes his head, resting his forehead against his palms. “This is like Shorter all over again. Everyone likes keeping shit like this a secret until it’s forced to come out.”

 

Yut-Lung tenses, setting his cup between his lap to pay full attention to Sing.

 

“He didn’t say anything?”

 

Sing briefly looks up, “Who?”

 

“Shorter.”

 

“No. I didn’t know until Alex told me,” he explains. “Then I saw the jar of pink petals and I knew it was true. That flowers were trying to kill him.”

 

Yut-Lung breathes, “At least he got it fixed.”

 

“Yeah. He’s back to normal now. Acts like it never happened,” he concludes. Sing then shakes his head again, narrowing his eyes at Yut-Lung. “But stop changing the subject. Who is it? Who does Eiji like?”

 

Yut-Lung groans, sinking into his seat. “You’re being nosy.”

 

“Yeah, because I think I might know, but I want to hear it from you.”

 

“Friends don’t tell secrets,” Yut-Lung mumbles.

 

“But this secret is _hurting_ him, Yut-Lung. You gotta break the bro code.”

 

“Telling you won’t solve anything,” he retorts. “You might make it worse.”

 

There’s a pause. A long enough one that lets Yut-Lung hear the desk lady flip through a book from a few feet away. Sing’s eyes soften and a frown falls on his lips. Yut-Lung has to look down at his cup, censurably.

 

“Is it him?” Sing asks, almost in a whisper. “Is it Ash?”

 

Yut-Lung’s grip on the cup strengthens, bending it on its side. “Sing, you can’t tell him. Eiji doesn’t want him to know.”

 

“Yut-Lung⸺”

 

“I’m not kidding, Sing. You really can’t tell him.” His eyes dart up at Sing, looking at him sharply. “I know it’s stupid. He’s stupid. They’re _both_ stupid. But Eiji doesn’t want to tell him,” his voice shakes, “You can’t say anything, Sing. Understood?”

 

Sing’s mouth presses into a tight line. “He’s hurting, Yue…”

 

The dolefulness in Sing’s tone doesn’t let the guilt Yut-Lung is holding in his gut rest. Keeping secrets is ruining Eiji and yet Yut-Lung doesn’t stop him.

 

“I’ll get Eiji to tell him just...give him time.”

 

Sing’s mouth falls open like he’s ready to argue again, but Yut-Lung cuts him off. “I’ve been hurting him since I found out, you know? I’d get so mad at him because he never tried getting help. Because he was always acting like things would get better on their own,” he shares, voice wavering at some moments. “But he was  _scared_ and I was only strengthening his fears.”

 

Yut-Lung thinks back to the night when he caught him. In that tiny bathroom that felt like a cave the night where it was only the two of them and the reminder of what was killing Eiji swimming derisively in the toilet bowl. And Eiji quietly reassuring Yut-Lung in that croaky voice of his that he would be okay, but Yut-Lung wasn’t too sure if Eiji had meant it.

 

“That could have been us,” Sing mumbles. Yut-Lung glances over and watches him fumble with a string on his jacket. “I felt an ache sometimes...when I was around you. I don’t know if it was _that_ starting to happen. Then Shorter got sick and things got so busy that I couldn’t focus on you as much. Like I erased the thoughts of you for a moment, but they were still there. It was a dull ache, but it didn’t go away.” Sing sighs, abandoning the string to run a hand through his hair. “Maybe, Yue. Maybe _we_ were next.”

 

“You’re flattering yourself. I didn’t feel anything,” he replies, trying to lighten the mood. It’s a fib. Though he’ll never admit about the odd sensation that welled up inside his chest too. A something he couldn’t point out, but was present anytime Sing was around. And Eiji had always been there, trying to steer him in the right direction. And in the nine days Yut-Lung had found out, he only led Eiji to crash.

 

He hears Sing grumble something under his breath then he stiffens.

 

“Eiji’s out.”

 

Yut-Lung shifts his attention to the figure staggering his way down the hall with a white paper bag in hand. He looks smaller, tired. Yut-Lung stands, striding fast towards Eiji, hearing Sing trailing behind him.

 

Eiji looks at him with puffy eyes that are a little red. Probably from the lack of sleep or maybe from something else. Yut-Lung doesn’t like how this somber look engulfs him, but there’s still a small smile with no meaning dimming Eiji's face.

 

“What did the doctor say?” He asks

 

Eiji nervously crumples the bag between his hands, holding it tight against his chest. “I have time,” he replies hesitantly. “I will be okay.”

 

There’s no real answer to Yut-Lung’s question. Eiji seems to think Yut-Lung already knows what the answer is and if that guilty feeling settled in the pit of his stomach were gone, Yut-Lung might shout at him to get the problem dealt with. He’s _so_ close to doing just that.

 

“Let’s get you home” Yut-Lung decides to say, linking his arm around Eiji’s as they exit out the sliding doors of the hospital and walk silently to the car with Sing in front of them.

 

The anger inside him is ready to burst at the seams but Yut-Lung has to resist it. Eiji looks so tired and there’s no getting through him about making a significant decision when he’s in this condition.

 

“I can teach you how to take pictures if you want?” Eiji says suddenly, softly.

 

Yut-Lung stops a few inches from opening the car door. There’s something weird about that sentence. It sounds foreboding.

 

“No. No one does it better than you.”

 

Without another word, he steps inside and the drive home is silent.

* * *

Going over Ash’s house, considering all that happened today, is probably a bad idea.

 

Yet Sing’s here, sitting at the Glenreed’s dining table with a Calculus textbook opened in front of him for a short tutoring session. Not to mention the free meal that he gratefully and too easily accepts. It’s chicken covered in some sauce this time. It smells delicious, but Sing simply can’t manage to eat it this time.

 

His leg won’t stop shaking under the table. Sing’s thoughts are gnawing him with worry after finding out the sitch with Eiji. Keeping this a secret is very wrong and he knows what the petals do to a person when it goes too far.

 

Like with Shorter and the agony he was in that Alex remembers seeing, but Shorter can’t recollect at all.

 

Now, there’s Eiji who was coughing his heart out and writhing on the ground when it was all over, trying to catch the breaths stolen from him. Eiji, who was carrying a box of jars not so long ago and almost dropped it, and Sing had dismissed it as a slip up caused by exhaustion.

 

Then, there’s him and Yut-Lung who can do something, but they won’t and that doesn’t sit right with Sing. There’s so much they can do. Maybe Sing can outwit Ash into breaking out of that emotionally-constipated state of his. Then Yut-Lung could try getting Eiji⸺

 

“What’s got you looking so down?”

 

⸺to slowly talk to Ash about their feelings and such. Or possibly, Yut-Lung and Sing could coincidentally match them together in a room all the time. That would be a good Plan B too, but maybe it’s too obvious…

 

“Oh, nothing. Just had to take Eiji to the hospital is all.”

 

No big deal. There’s also Plan C which is a good combination of Plan A and B that would include inviting them to game ni⸺

 

“ _What?”_

 

...what?

 

 _Shit!_ He didn’t even hear Ash pull up the chair beside him!

 

“Why did Eiji have to go to the hospital?” He asks. Ash sounds kind of angry, but Sing might be confusing that with worry.

 

Fuck! He’s usually great at keeping secrets!

 

“I - he - uh,” _idiot._ Yut-Lung is going to kill him. “He got food...poisoning,” he tries then continues, “Our pizza sucks.”

 

“ _You_ gave him _food poisoning_?” He eyes him incredulously.

 

“ _I_ didn’t give him food poisoning,” Sing defends, hands raised. “Someone else did and it’s not their fault! They just...don’t know...how to cook the food correctly.”

 

“Your boss hired someone that can’t cook?”

 

“It takes time for people to learn how to cook, Ash,” he explains. “I’ll talk to the chef so he won’t... _accidentally_ hurt someone again.”

 

Ash scoffs, “Yeah, you better. Eiji better be okay otherwise you’ll have to fire that chef.”

 

Plan C it is then.

* * *

It’s around ten o’clock when Eiji hears his phone vibrate against the wooden nightstand. He’s slowly waiting for the sleeping pill the doctor prescribed to kick in. He was reluctant to take it, but with all that has happened today, Eiji knows he’ll regret it the next morning if he decides to use up the small amount of energy he has left in staying up.

 

Plus, the doctor said he’s alright for now. A “mild” coughing fit that resulted in blood because Eiji got too stubborn to let the petals out. But he’s not at the wastelands of his life yet and sleeping tonight shouldn’t kill him.

 

Eiji stretches his arm out for his phone. His eyes squint when the light shines against his face, but they instantly go wide when he sees the contact name and preview of the message.

 

**(10:28) Ash:**

**I heard you were sent to the hospital.**

 

Eiji freezes. His jaw falls open and his heart races. Yut-Lung _promised_ him that Sing wouldn’t tell him. Ash isn’t supposed to know. This is _his_ problem. Eiji can handle it himself!

 

**(10:29) Ash:**

**Sing said you got food poisoning. Are you okay?**

 

He’s nowhere near okay. Not with the heart attack he almost gave him. Ash has a thing for breaking Eiji's heart even when he's miles and miles away from him.

 

Eiji exhales, coughing some before he relaxes his breathing like how the doctor taught him.

 

**(10:31) Eiji:**

**I’m okay :)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's that time of the semester when professors shove large ass assignments into my hands with little time to complete them. My finals start next week too so I'm predicting the next update will probably be the end of the first week of June?? Ormaybelongerbutletshopenot. Feel free to kindly yell at me to write first /then/ edit! It will empower me!!
> 
> ALSO that one shot I said I was going to post a little over a month ago? That should be up by the end of this week if I don't procrastinate again kldajalkh
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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